


i told the stars about you

by sammythemattressthief



Category: South Park
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Arson, Background Style, Badass Guinea Pigs, Craig is a useless gay, Crenny, Eric Cartman Being Eric Cartman, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Grieving, Homophobic Slurs, Hospitals, Hotboxing, Implied Domestic Violence, Implied substance abuse, Kenny's Grin of Impending Vandalism, M/M, Mild emotional trauma, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Parents Being Gone for Handwavey Reasons, Recreational Drug Use, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Spaghetti dinner, Theft, he's trying, pet death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-06
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2020-10-10 21:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 72,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20535146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammythemattressthief/pseuds/sammythemattressthief
Summary: Kenny inserts himself into Craig's life and they do what any other hot blooded teens in a town as ass backwards South Park do: get high, vandalize shit, cuddle animals, fall in love, bury people they once cared for, and try to survive the senior prom fever. Craig has always told the stars about every significant event in his life, but how is he going to tell them that one of their own fell to Earth and found his way to him?





	1. Nosy Peaches

**Author's Note:**

> "I asked NASA if I could launch myself into space but they said no. They're some of the most difficult people to work with."  
-_ David Bowie_

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But let me get to the point, let's roll another joint  
And turn the radio loud, I'm too alone to be proud  
You don't know how it feels  
You don't know how it feels to be me"  
\- _Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers, You Don't Know How It Feels_

Craig stared down at his lunch, poking at his cup of peaches with vague disinterest. He’d already eaten his peanut butter sandwich, but the peaches were just… distracting. It wasn’t a word he’d ever thought he’d be using to describe the same fucking cup of peaches he’d been eating every week for the past seven years, but here he was. He’d been fine up until last week, until Kenny McCormick turned his carefully constructed, boring world right on its ass. 

Craig had been walking home, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his hoodie, hat pushed back, the flaps turned up against the remnants of the summer heat. He played his music lowly from the phone in his pocket as he left the school grounds. It was only the end of the first month of school and he was already sick and tired of it. He liked his routines, sure, but only when they were on his terms. School wasn’t on that list. He sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket to change the song, and didn’t even bother to look up right away when a voice called his name. 

“Craig! Hey!” 

The corner of his mouth twitched down in irritation, but he didn’t look up. All he wanted to do was get home, find some kind of junk food to take to his room, and watch Red Racer reruns with his geriatric guinea pig. Talking to someone wasn’t really on his agenda. 

“Damnit, Tucker, wait up,” the voice huffed, growing closer. Craig flicked his gaze up from his phone as he twisted his head to see who was approaching him. His frown deepened as he took in Kenny McCormick as he approached him. 

“What do you want, McCormick?” he asked, his voice bored and disinterested. Kenny jogged up to him, his face splitting into a grin as he slowed to a stop. He wore a threadbare t-shirt and torn, faded jeans. He carried no backpack, but it looked like he had several folded sheets of paper tucked into his back pocket. He pushed his mop of blond hair out of his eyes and grinned up at Craig. ‘Up’ at him was a bit of an exaggeration, as he was only maybe an inch or two shorter than Craig, but he’d take any win he could get. 

“So defensive already,” Kenny said lightly, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Just wanted to talk.” Craig narrowed his eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be going home?” he asked. 

“I am. You don’t live all that far from me,” Kenny told him. He gestured vaguely with his hand, flapping his long fingers in Craig’s face. “I can take the alley by your place and get there faster than if I took the main roads.” Craig clenched his jaw. 

“Good for you.” 

“I thought so,” Kenny said brightly. He fell into step beside Craig when he started walking again, clicking the volume on his phone up by a notch or two. “So, do you wanna hang out?” Craig slid his green eyes back to Kenny, his brow furrowing. 

“Why the fuck would I want to hang out with you?” His words were harsh, but his tone was just as bored and nasal as it ever was. Beside him, Kenny shrugged.

“I don’t know. You just looked bored - and I mean more bored than usual - at lunch today and figured you could use a change of pace,” he said. 

“Why do you _ care_?” Craig asked, squinting his eyes into a glare. Kenny shrugged again, rolling his eyes in a way that was so different from the way Craig ever did. Somehow, he made it look good natured and friendly instead of annoyed and bitter.

“Dunno. Must be a side effect of knowing you since we were three.” Kenny burrowed his hands into the pocket of his worn, too small hoodie and chewed on his lips. The action drew Craig’s gaze, though if Kenny noticed, he didn’t say anything. “Well if you’re bored enough, meet me by the bleachers Friday after school. We can hang, do something fun, whatever. See you.” And then he was gone, dropping from his side like a fighter pilot breaking formation, tattered sneakers making barely a sound as they carried him away. 

He took the main road.

The next day, Kenny smirked at him in the hallway as he shuffled past him to his next class. Craig blinked at him, apathetic. Thursday was a finger gun and a wink before Cartman shoved into him and called him poor. Craig smirked at him, almost amused. Friday, Kenny brushed past him in that orange hoodie, refusing eye contact. Craig glared at him, but he caught the corner of his mouth turning upward in a grin. 

Craig had made up his mind long before he sat down to lunch on Friday. Now he sat, distracted by the peaches that had never been an issue for him before. They reminded him of soft, kissable lips, and how he hadn’t been kissed in what felt like eons. He tried to picture them as Kenny’s, but all he saw was a reminder of Thomas, and he frowned.

He shoved them away and stood abruptly, leaving the table he shared with Token, Clyde, and Jimmy. Only Token spared him a brief, concerned glance; Clyde swiped the peaches without a word.

—

He sat on the ground level bleachers, cigarette dangling from his mouth, scrolling through his phone with his headphones in. His stomach churned and he hoped Kenny would forget, or was pulling some elaborate prank that would involve him sitting and waiting for an hour and being recorded from the shadows. He wasn’t sure that he wanted to see the other boy. Not that he thought Kenny was going to do anything shifty - not to him, anyway. Kenny did plenty of shifty things, if even a quarter of the rumours about him were to be believed. Craig didn’t make a habit of believing rumours; what Kenny did or didn’t do in his spare time was not his business. He tried to make as few things his business as possible. 

He’d kept the same friends since elementary school. High school brought all sorts of different cliques together through house parties and indiscriminate sex, so it wasn’t like he _ only _ spoke to his immediate friends. Well, okay, maybe he did only speak to his immediate friends _ willingly _, but he tolerated everyone else fairly well. Except maybe Cartman. Or Terrance Mephesto. Regardless of his tolerance of the other students in his grade, he still managed to stay entirely out of everyone else’s business. The only times drama had revolved around him was when he’d broken up with Tweek… twice. He’d been fortunate enough to have broken up with Thomas before school started, if anything was fortunate about having his heart smashed to pieces for a third time in his relatively short life. 

Now here he was, sitting outside in the rapidly cooling weather, flicking through his phone, praying to whatever absentee god remained in the universe that he wasn’t going to regret agreeing to hang out with Kenny. 

He heard the scuff of shoes against pavement and he looked up to see Kenny making his way toward him. He wore an orange hoodie that seemed to fit him a little better than the one he wore last week, and what could have been the same pair of tattered jeans. Or maybe all his jeans looked like that? Craig had never paid enough attention, probably never would. He brought his hand to his mouth and tucked his cigarette between his index and middle fingers, exhaling smoke in Kenny’s direction. 

“Real talk? I’m surprised you’re here,” Kenny said in greeting. Craig chuckled, surprised with himself for it. 

“Don’t flatter yourself, I’m just _ that _ bored,” he said. He stood, taking another drag from his nearly finished cigarette. “So what fun and exciting things do you have in store for us today?” 

Kenny grinned, pulling his hood down to reveal his mop of shaggy blond hair. Craig ignored the way his gut clenched as Kenny ran his fingers through his hair. He reached behind him and withdrew a plastic bag from his back pocket. He dangled it in front of his face, grin widening. 

“Wanna go get baked in the woods?”

—

“So, like, why the fuck are you here?” Craig asked, passing Kenny the joint. Kenny took it, squinting at Craig.

“To smoke this mediocre kush with you, why else?” He took another hit, holding it in while he stared at Craig before exhaling. 

“I mean, why are you here with _ me_?” Craig leaned over and snatched the joint back. “We talk at parties sometimes, McCormick, but it’s not like we’re best friends or anything.” He took another hit. 

“Yeah, but you’ve been moping since you broke up with Thomas last month and -”

“I haven’t been _ moping_!” Craig snapped. Kenny rolled his eyes.

“Uh-huh. Your face has been like this -” Kenny pinched and prodded at his face until he was tugging his cheeks down into a weepy looking frown, “since the end of summer and it’s seriously fucking depressing.” Craig scowled at him.

“That’s what my face always looks like, dicknut,” he grumbled. Kenny rolled his eyes.

“Maybe Token is too polite to say anything to you about how miserable you look -”

“Thanks, asshole.”

“- but I’ve never been good at shutting up or minding my own business.” Craig narrowed his eyes at Kenny, trying to remember why he was sitting here with his absolute polar opposite. He took another hit and then passed the joint back to Kenny, shifting against the tree. Kenny regarded him with a hazy, dilated blue gaze, his teeth pulling on his lower lip. Craig felt awkward and warm under the scrutiny, and he stood abruptly, brushing the dirt from his rear and digging around in his jeans for his pocket knife. It was an old, dull thing, but still had enough of a point for him to stab into the bark of the tree. 

“Hey,” Kenny said, his voice soft. Craig’s frown deepened at his tone. It was gentle and warm and fucking _ sweet _ , like he was trying to horse-whisper his way out of being trampled. He stabbed viciously at the tree. Kenny didn’t move from his position at the base of the tree, his long legs folded and the joint held between his thumb and forefinger. He took another hit, and Craig told himself that he was just watching the joint and _ not _ the way Kenny’s lips clamped around it. He berated his preference for blonds and twisted his knife into the tree, sending pieces of bark to the forest floor. 

“It’s okay to be upset about the breakup,” came Kenny’s voice, still so soft, like he thought Craig would break if he spoke any louder. 

“I’m not upset,” Craig grumbled. Kenny snorted, handing the joint back up to Craig. He took it with his free hand, continuing to stab at the tree. 

“Yeah, because your friends have been doing such a good job helping you.” Craig looked down at Kenny, confused and slightly irritated. 

“How is my breakup _ their _ problem?” he asked bitterly. He picked off a piece of the bark and dropped it onto Kenny’s head. 

“They’re your friends, right? Shouldn’t they be trying to make you feel better?” Kenny shook his head, bits of bark falling from his blond hair. He swiveled his head and looked up at Craig, his cornflower blue eyes beginning to look bloodshot but still so warm and sincere that Craig blinked down at him, confused and… and too damn high for this shit. He watched as Kenny twisted to his feet easily, the soft, concerned look on his face shifting into a wide, bright grin. “Guess it’s up to me.” He plucked the joint from Craig’s hand and took a hit, blowing the smoke into Craig’s face. 

Craig would later blame it on the weed, but he smiled. Just a little.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tags will be updated as chapters are added. I currently have seven chapters written, but I was too eager to wait until the whole thing is finished to post it. I don't have a beta reader, so please point out any errors. Rating will go up in later chapters.


	2. I Could Be Wrong About Anybody Else

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Put your arms around somebody else  
Don't punish yourself, punish yourself  
Truth is like blood underneath your fingernails  
And you don't wanna hurt yourself, hurt yourself"  
\- _Fink, Looking Too Closely_

It was a stormy evening three weeks later that Craig found himself lying flat on his back in his dim bedroom, Stripe snoozing on his chest. It was probably the last good thunderstorm of the season before the chill that inhabited the nights crept into the daylight hours and brought snow back with it. The only light in his room came from the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling and the Jupiter glow lamp on his desk. His music was low enough that he could hear Stripe’s comforting little wheezes, the house was comfortably cool, his mom was on her way home with carry out from City Wok, and he didn’t have school tomorrow. 

School had, in fact, let out around noon that day. Something about a minor gas leak. The students had rejoiced and fled the premises, thrilled for an early start to the weekend. Kenny had found him immediately, suggesting that they go to see a movie. Shrugging, Craig had agreed, but only because he knew that the theatre was currently running a summer special of cheap, nostalgic action flicks from his childhood. Which, of course, included the Red Racer movie. 

At this point, he wasn’t even surprised when Kenny paid for two tickets to Red Racer: The Speedening.

He’d seen the movie a thousand times, and it seemed that Kenny had seen it a few times as well. He leaned in close and whispered lines to Craig in dramatic voices, mimicked the explosions with wide hand gestures and theatrics, and made exaggerated vrooming noises every time Red Racer cut a corner. Craig was laughing, coughing around his popcorn and soda, choking harder when Kenny begged for anyone else in the audience to be a doctor and ‘save this poor man’s life, for the love of God!’. The sticky floors were the only witnesses to their antics, and no one gave out doctorates to cheap plaster. 

Craig bought them milkshakes at the Kum & Go and they lingered around town until Kenny had flashed him a thousand watt grin and set off for his house with a wave. Craig gave him a little two finger salute and turned in the direction of his own home, not even realizing that he was smiling until Tricia asked him what he was so happy about. That brought him back to planet Earth fast enough, and he casually told her to fuck off and booked it to his room. 

His mood was still high though, and he gently picked Stripe up out of his pen and sat him on the floor for some exercise. He sat down on his bed, watching his aging pet shuffle around the room and thinking how grateful he was that today wasn’t the day that he came home to a dead rodent. He’d had a _ good _ day, he’d laughed himself nearly to tears while he watched a favourite movie from his childhood with… with…

With someone who had become very important to him. 

Kenny McCormick had been a complete surprise. He was unwanted, at first, and very unwelcome. The second time they’d hung out, Craig had verbally bitten Kenny’s head off and very nearly punched him, though he couldn’t, for the life of him, remember _ why _ he’d wanted to maim the other boy. It was tense for a week after that, but Kenny proved to be persistent. 

“Like a flower that just keeps blooming in the snow!” he’d described himself.

“Or a weed growing through a block of cement,” Craig had corrected, deadpan. 

That had been the first time Kenny laughed properly around him, a full belly guffaw that had his eyes clenching shut and his nose scrunching up. 

It was a little breathtaking, but Craig didn’t acknowledge that. 

Still, somehow, Kenny had managed to make himself one of the most important people in Craig’s life. He merged smoothly, seamlessly, with Craig’s friends, while still managing to not quite be a part of his group. He still sat with Stan and Kyle and Butters, and still tolerated Cartman’s presence for some inane reason. He walked with Craig to one class, then broke off to find his friends for another. Sometimes he just waved in the hallway. 

He gave Craig space, and was never overbearing, and Craig appreciated that more than he cared to admit to himself. 

Maybe he did admit it to himself, but only in the quiet of night, when he was too tired to feel confused about anything. 

Kenny was… Craig huffed, irritated. Kenny was a good friend, and it had been a long time since he’d had someone new in his life that he could trust. He scratched at Stripe’s head thoughtfully, unsure if he should just be happy that he was happy, or if he should continue to analyze the ever loving fuck out of it all. 

He didn’t really have any time to debate what he felt, because there was a tapping at his window, which was strange because he was on the second floor, and it was storming pretty hard outside. Shifting Stripe so that he cradled him gently in his hands, he walked over to his window and looked down to find Kenny. He wore a grey sweatshirt with the hood tugged up over his head, but Craig recognized his stance.

Unable to fathom why Kenny would be standing outside his house in the middle of a storm, he set Stripe back into his pen and hurried downstairs. He threw open the door and dragged Kenny inside when the other boy hesitated, grumbling about him being an idiot. Kenny numbly toed his shoes off, his fingers hesitating as he touched the hem of his hoodie, opting to leave it on for the time being. Craig quirked an eyebrow at him, but led him upstairs anyway. 

“Dad’s at work and mom’s on her way home, but she won’t mind that you’re here,” Craig offered, leading Kenny into his room. Kenny stood in the middle of his room, glancing around as he lowered his hood, wide blue eyes taking everything in. The faded Red Racer poster on his wall, the stars on his ceiling, the string of pale white lights around the shelves above his bed. His fingers clutched at the hem of his hoodie again, picking at a frayed patch. He looked lost, and it made Craig frustrated for reasons he didn’t know the names of. He walked over to his closet and pulled out a clean hoodie, a soft blue one. 

“Here,” he said, holding it out to Kenny. “I can throw yours in the dryer.” Kenny gripped the hem of his hoodie again, and he looked terrified enough to make Craig take a step back. 

“I’m -” _ fine_. It went unsaid. Craig held Kenny’s gaze, not entirely sure why Kenny was afraid of his hoodie. Kenny looked like he was at war with himself, and the fear and frustration was plain on his face. With a huff, Craig tossed the blue hoodie on his bed behind Kenny and turned to leave his room.

“Do you want something to drink?” he asked, pausing by the door. Kenny stared at him for a long moment before nodding mutely. Craig left his room and jogged down the stairs, entirely baffled by Kenny’s behaviour. Kenny had been fine an hour ago, and now he looked like he’d been chased through three counties with a hatchet. He filled two glasses with water from the sink, biting his lip.

Kenny was confidence personified, and ever since Craig had known him, nothing had ever truly rattled him. Not anything that he couldn’t shake off, anyway. Kenny and his friends had gotten up to all kinds of weird, fucked up things when they were children. The town itself had been wrecked and rebuilt about a hundred times; they’d all seen horrible things, and Kenny maybe more than anyone else. Yet he’d always seemed unflappable, nothing able to shake his fortitude. Now he stood in Craig’s room, shaking like a dog shitting razor blades and looking like he was ready to bolt. 

Shutting off the tap, he picked up the glasses and headed back upstairs, resolving to do whatever it took to make the terrified look in Kenny’s eyes go away. 

Kenny was wearing Craig’s hoodie when he arrived back at his room, his soaked one folded up and resting on the floor at the foot of his bed. Craig handed him the water wordlessly before bending down to pick up the hoodie. 

“You can sit. Wherever. I’ll toss this in the dryer,” he said, holding the soaked hoodie up. Kenny’s head bobbed in a distracted sort of way, looking at Craig’s bed before settling down on the edge of it, looking like he wanted to crawl out of his skin. Craig took the hoodie to the laundry room down the hall, shaking it out and opening the dryer. He tossed it in, but the sleeve caught on the edge. He made to flick it into the drum, but his eye caught a flash of red on the cuff. With an uncomfortable feeling that he knew what it was, he picked it up to examine it further. A smear of bright, fresh blood was on the ridged cuff of the hoodie, and Craig’s stomach dropped. He clutched at the hoodie, his knuckles turning white.

Had Kenny been jumped and come here for shelter? Was he hurt? Was this why he’d been so terrified of taking his hoodie off in front of him - because he was injured and potentially bleeding? Craig’s stomach churned and he felt his mouth dry out as if he’d just eaten cotton. He snatched the sweatshirt out of the dryer and instead tossed it into the wash, dumping probably too much detergent into it. He slammed the lid shut and twisted the dial until the water was set to ‘hot’, then turned it on. Rubbing at the bridge of his nose, he made his way back to his room. Kenny was laying back on his bed, legs dangling over the side, staring up at the stars on his ceiling with his hands on his chest. 

“I tossed your hoodie in the wash. It had mud on it,” he said, hopefully not sounding like he wanted to vomit. Kenny sat up, smiling briefly, though it didn’t meet his eyes.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. Craig shrugged, sitting down in his desk chair. He looked anywhere but at Kenny, who seemed to be paying him the same courtesy. Craig reached over and reversed the direction on his rotating Jupiter lamp, listening to it whir and click before finally falling into silence again. “Wanna watch a movie?” 

Kenny relaxed visibly, his face falling slack and his grin coming far easier. Craig had an old cathode ray tube TV in his room, with a curved, dusty screen, but it worked well enough for the ancient movies he preferred. He had a dozen or so VHS tapes and a CD case filled with DVDs on the bottom level of a bookshelf, and he tossed the CD case at Kenny. Craig busied himself with feeding Stripe a few pumpkin seeds while Kenny flipped through the sleeves. 

Stripe was comfortable enough with him, after all these long years, that he let Craig stroke him while he ate, and didn’t even twitch or jump anymore. His brown fur had faded, lost its shiny luster, and was thin and in some places, very nearly gone. The chub he’d had as a young guinea pig was gone and Craig could feel his spine when he pet him. Earlier, he had refused to let himself think on Stripe’s mortality, having had a good afternoon. Now, with the appearance of Kenny and the fear that clung to him, he figured he might as well think a little more of the demise of his best friend. Stripe chirruped and hummed, nudging at his fingers with renewed vigour after consuming a few treats. Craig smiled softly and scritched under his chin while he was pawed at for more. 

“Is that Stripe?” Kenny said from his elbow. Craig nodded, glancing at him as he leaned over the cage to peer at the aging rodent. “Wow, he’s still kickin’ after all these years. What a badass.” A sudden laugh slipped loose from Craig, his eyes scrunching up, snorting a little. 

“I don’t think anyone has ever described a _ guinea pig _ as badass before,” he chuckled. He opened his eyes, shoulders still shaking a little, and saw Kenny smiling at him, looking far less like he had just ten minutes ago. 

“You’ve had him for so long though, dude!” Kenny reached into the pen, his long fingers reaching out and then quickly curling back. He glanced back up at Craig. “Can I pet him?” 

Craig nodded, thinking for the first time that he was grateful that Stripe was older now. When he was younger, he was prone to biting anyone but Craig and, oddly, Token. He’d bitten Clyde more times that Craig could remember, and even got Tweek a few times. In his senior years, however, it was almost like he didn’t care enough to gnaw on anyone. Craig watched as Kenny gently scratched behind his ears while Stripe munched on some timothy hay. For the first moment, Craig focused on Stripe’s mouth, in case his beloved pet decided to find a spark of life and try to take Kenny’s finger off. Then he noticed the split skin on Kenny’s knuckles.

“Jesus, dude, did you punch a wall?” he asked before he could stop himself. To his surprise, Kenny didn’t snatch his hand back. He stretched his fingers out, wiggling them on display, and then pet Stripe again. 

“Sort of?” He chuckled, but Craig thought it sounded forced. “You know those motorized Razor scooters? Some kid was riding one, or learning to, I guess, on the sidewalk. He nearly ran me over, and I fell into a wall before he could properly execute me.” He straightened and touched his shoulder. “Scraped my arm up too, but there’s no gravel in it. I’ll live.” 

Craig nodded. It made enough sense, and he chose to ignore the way Kenny didn’t look at him as he spoke, telling himself that it wasn’t his business anyway. Kenny reached behind him and picked up a disc.

“The Breakfast Club okay with you?” 

“Sure.”

Craig took the disc from him and plugged in a very, very old DVD player to his TV. The newer ones just wouldn’t work on the old TV, so he had to make due with an old hand-me-down from Token. It was a high quality one, for its age, and in pristine condition, so he didn’t complain about it. He set everything up, and grabbed both the DVD remote and the one for the TV, and plopped down onto his bed. He scooted back until he hit the wall, and he was relieved that he didn’t have to convince Kenny to sit down next to him. Kenny shuffled back until he was next to Craig, who grabbed up the remote and started the movie.

They’d only gotten halfway through it when Craig’s mom came home. She poked her head into Craig’s room, hiding her surprise at seeing someone who wasn’t Clyde, Token, or Jimmy with her eldest son. Kenny surprised Craig thoroughly when he immediately stood from the bed and made to shake her hand, introducing himself and calling her ‘Mrs. Tucker’ in the most polite, charming voice Craig had ever heard anyone use. His mother’s eyes grew wide, her eyelashes fluttering at the flattery. 

“Oh, Craig, honey, I wish you’d told me you had company. I’d have picked up an extra quart of lo mein!” she said, leaning around Kenny and looking upset. Craig shrugged.

“He can share mine. I’m still kind of full from the milkshake, anyway.” Laura smiled.

“That’s sweet of you, Craig. I’ll go get the paper plates, you boys just come down when you’re ready,” she said, patting Kenny’s arm before turning and making her way downstairs. Kenny turned around, a mischievous grin on his face.

“You’re so sweet, Craig,” he cooed, rushing over to grab Craig’s hands and tug him to his feet. Craig felt heat rise in his cheeks, and he allowed himself to remain in Kenny’s grip for a second, then jerked back, scowling. 

“Just get your ass downstairs,” he grumbled. 

Laura let them fill their plates with lo mein, vegetables, and fried rice, and she gave them the freedom to return to Craig’s room to eat and finish their movie. Kenny flashed Laura a bright smile and thanked her for both the food and the option to return to the movie. Craig rolled his eyes and gave Kenny a shove, unable to keep the smirk off his face as Kenny cackled to himself. They settled themselves cross legged on Craig’s bed, plates on their laps, and dug into their food. 

“Your mom is really nice,” Kenny said, spearing a snow pea with his fork. 

“Why, because she fell for your bullshit flattery?” he asked. “Which, by the way, hearing you talk like that might be the most unsettling thing I’ve ever experienced.” Kenny snorted.

“Good. Suffer.” He left it at that, not answering Craig’s question. Craig decided he didn’t mind - he thought his mom was nice too. He knew the same things the rest of the entire town knew - the McCormick’s didn’t have much. They were dysfunctional at best and Craig didn’t want to think about what they were at their worst, though Kenny seemed to have escaped his parents’ hard drug addictions and alcoholism. Karen was close with Tricia, and she was pretty okay too, as far as eighth graders went. Craig didn’t know what their relationship with their mother was like, but he found himself hoping that Craig would think Kenny’s mom was kind, too. 

Their movie finished eventually, begging them not to forget about it. Kenny had curled up after finishing his food, knees hugged to his chest and his chin on his arms. Craig had stretched out to rest sideways against his pillows, and when the credits rolled back around to the main menu, he sat up. It was only eight, and the storm outside had finally stopped. 

“I, um,” Kenny started, his voice soft. “I don’t really want to go home.”

Craig blinked once, then nodded, and slid from his bed immediately to pull a spare t-shirt and set of lounge pants from his dresser. Wordlessly, he handed them to Kenny, who stared up at him with stars in his eyes. Craig bit his lip. 

“There’s a spare toothbrush under the bathroom sink, and you can, uh,” he paused, looking up at his pillows, “share my bed, or take the couch, or whatever.” Kenny smiled at him, soft and almost sad.

“Do you have a sleeping bag? I can just camp out on the floor, you’re doin’ enough for me as it is,” he said graciously, holding Craig’s clothes against his chest. 

“I’ll get it out while you’re in the bathroom.” Craig didn’t think Kenny would normally have any qualms about changing in front of him, but his behaviour earlier gave him enough reason to give him an out now. Kenny seemed grateful, bobbing his head once before making his way toward the bathroom. 

As Craig was dragging his sleeping bag from the closet and unlacing the ties that kept it in a tight roll, he was suddenly bowled over by the realization that Kenny had, in fact, not been run down by a rogue child on a scooter. Craig stood stock-still, clutching the sleeping bag in a white knuckled grip, his stomach threatening to decorate his walls with the lo mein he’d just eaten. It nauseated him to think that anyone in Kenny’s home would have hit him. His older brother had taken leave last year and moved to Denver, working in a factory. Karen was ruled out, because Kenny would throw himself in front of a train before he ever laid a finger on her. That left his parents. Likely his father, Craig thought. 

He furrowed his brow, suddenly angry. Kenny was a _ good _ person. He didn’t deserve to have his father beat him, knew that nothing Kenny could have done would have been worthy of assault. He felt himself growing warm with rage, colour rising along his neck and face. He was probably jumping to conclusions, he shouldn’t be assuming that Kenny’s father was abusing him. He’d never seen Kenny with any marks or signs of abuse in all the years he’d known him. 

Craig wasn’t stupid. It wasn’t that insane to think that Kenny had showed up at his door in a rainstorm, bruised and bloody, claiming that he didn’t want to go home, because he’d been assaulted by his notoriously violent, alcoholic, drug addicted father. Frowning heavily, he turned and shook the sleeping back out and set it up on the floor. He was taking a pillow from his bed and fluffing it up when Kenny came back in, still wearing Craig’s hoodie and now the old Red Racer loungers, his own dirty t-shirt folded up in his hands. 

“Are you sure you’re okay on the floor?” Craig asked, maybe a little louder than he’d intended. Kenny blinked at him, eyes wide, before breaking into a fond grin. 

“Yeah, dude, it’s fine. You just got your new bed like, a week ago. You don’t need to scuzz it up with my poor ass,” he chuckled, taking the pillow from Craig and kneeling down on the floor. 

Suddenly angry again, Craig knelt down and gave Kenny a shove. Kenny fell back on his ass, looking up at Craig in surprise. His cornflower blue eyes were wide, his mouth falling open as he sat back on his hands. Craig sat back, hands fisting in the material of his sweatpants on his thighs, scowling down at the sleeping bag. 

“Don’t talk about yourself like that,” he said quietly. Kenny chuckled.

“Calling myself poor is hardly an insult - it’s just what I am, Craig,” he said. 

“But you’re not lesser because of it,” Craig insisted, looking up at Kenny, green eyes blazing. Kenny looked a little breathless, colour rising in his high cheekbones, and his easy smile returned. 

“Are you saying you want me in your bed, Tucker?” he asked, winking salaciously. “I know you like ‘em blond and pretty.” Craig narrowed his eyes at Kenny, shoving him again as he stood up. Kenny cackled quietly to himself as Craig turned off the Jupiter lamp, throwing the room into darkness. The only light in the room came from the glow in the dark stars on his ceiling, and they didn’t throw enough light to illuminate anything. He stepped over Kenny, who had crawled into the sleeping bag, and climbed into his own bed. He settled on his back, staring up at the constellations, focusing on his favourite, Corvus. He wondered, if the stars could answer him, what they’d say to him when he told them that his heart was beating nearly out of his chest. It calmed him, and he let his eyes rake across his ceiling, tracing each individual constellation. 

He inhaled deeply, quietly.

“Worse things could happen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think so far! I will be updating regularly - once I'm another chapter or two ahead, I'll post the third part c: I've fallen into Crenny hell and I don't ever want to leave.


	3. Call Off Your Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And at first I wasn't sure if there's even a cure  
For what I'm feelin', 'cause what I'm feeling's been feelin' more and more absurd  
The repeating in my head of every last word that you said  
Feels like ever since you left, you still won't leave me"  
-_Gnash, The Broken Hearts Club_

Somehow, it was the end of October already. The Homecoming football game was tonight, and Craig originally hadn’t intended to go. Attending the football game only increased his chances of being asked to go to the homecoming dance, and god, there was nothing he wanted to do less than go to a school dance. A second runner up to that was going to the homecoming football game. 

And yet, somehow, Craig was sitting on his front porch, waiting for Kenny to pick him up, because somehow the other boy had managed to convince him that hot boxing in his truck and then eating a ton of shitty stadium food would be a good idea. He stubbed his cigarette out and flicked the butt into his flower bed as he waited. He hadn’t gone to a homecoming game since his freshman year, with Tweek. It wasn’t exactly a fond memory, though he and Tweek had long since been on speaking terms. They weren’t exactly the best friends they’d been before the shipping debacle and subsequent attempts at dating, but they were friendly enough to take on a few school projects together when necessary. Sitting with Tweek and the rest of his friends at lunch wasn’t an awkward thing, and Token had quietly expressed how grateful he was that they’d managed to keep things friendly. The first breakup in fifth grade had been terrible, and Craig had been heartbroken. When they broke up in ninth, it had been mutual, realizing slowly that their romance had simply run its course. Their fight during the homecoming game may have been what had started to drive them apart, but neither held it against the other by the time they broke up. 

The breakup with Thomas this past summer had been… difficult. He refused to let himself think about it, because he’d been doing so fucking well lately. The stilted, silent aura that hovered around his usual lunch table had mostly vanished. Clyde didn’t seem afraid of laughing too loudly anymore, Jimmy was telling jokes again, and Tweek was once again sharing his latest micro-theories about their weird little town. Craig felt almost normal again, if there even was such a thing for anyone raised in South Park. He doubted there was, but he wasn’t complaining too much that smiles came easier for him again. 

He knew that Kenny had played no small part in his rediscovered ability to breathe again. Since the first time, Kenny had spent the night at least once a week. His mother was sympathetic to Kenny’s home life, and his father simply raised one red, knowing eyebrow that caused Craig to flip him off. Craig knew that part of the reason Kenny came over so much was to escape his most likely abusive household. A few months ago, he would have felt used. Now he was simply happy to be part of a place where someone else felt safe and comfortable. 

Craig’s parents were still on welfare, though things had gotten a little easier for them since his father had gotten the management position at Bennigans. His mother happily cooked for Kenny, and sometimes Karen. She was entirely charmed by his charisma and how he spoke with Tricia. His father could often be found nodding in approval every time Kenny hopped up from the dinner table and volunteered to wash the dishes, humming to himself and dancing in place as he twirled Tricia, handing her off a clean dish for her to dry. His parents _ adored _ Kenny, and Craig was secretly amused to his core. He fought with his dad sometimes, but in the end, he was grateful that they were decent people who cared about their son enough to look past the stereotypes surrounding his friends. 

Headlights turned onto his street and he looked up, squinting as the truck approached his house. He stood up, an eager smirk falling into place as Kenny pulled the old truck into his driveway. It was a rusty, dented, 1985 Chevy K10. It may have been black once, but it was faded and rusted to an unpleasant brown. It was loud, but it ran smoothly, despite having over one hundred and thirty thousand miles on the speedometer. Craig wasn’t sure how Kenny managed to keep the thing in such good condition, mechanically speaking, but he was pretty sure it had something to do with his parents druggie friends and blackmail. He tugged the door open and climbed onto the bench seat beside Kenny. It was warm in the truck, and a cassette player was in the middle of flipping whatever was inside of it. Craig pulled the bag of weed out of his pocket and tossed it onto the dash, popping the glove box open and pawing around for Kenny’s pipe. 

“You ready for churros and sub-par pizza?” Kenny asked, grinning.

“I’m hungry enough for like, six of those foot long corn dogs,” Craig said. Kenny cackled, shifting into reverse and pulling out of Craig’s driveway. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a lighter.

“Let’s get this shit started, I can’t deal with homecoming games if I’m sober.”

Craig packed the pipe and lit it up, living for the way the smoke filled his lungs and curled to the roof of the car. He took another hit, as large a one as he could, working to fill the car with smoke.

“Hey, hold it up and help me out here, dude,” Kenny asked. With a little juggling, Craig managed to hold the pipe up to Kenny’s mouth and light the weed. Kenny inhaled deeply, holding it in for as long as he could before exhaling, blowing it directly at the roof with a grin. Kenny made a little kissing noise, stretching his lips over toward the pipe. Unable to suppress his own grin, he held the pipe back up to Kenny and let him take another hit. Dangerous to do this while driving? Absolutely. Were the cops likely to do anything? Nah. 

Kenny drove to the community center and parked out back. The center was empty; everyone in town was at the football game. Kenny shut the car off, though it was getting a little too cold out to do this for much longer. They sat in silence, passing the pipe back and forth, the only sounds being the flick of the lighter, their quiet exhales, and the soft bubbling of water. The car filled with smoke in very little time, and their eyes were red and watering and their faces relaxed into easy smiles. 

“Why don’t we just. Stay here?” Craig suggested. Kenny reached up and swirled his hand through the smoke lingering around the roof. 

“And get so high we can’t talk? How would we even order churros then?” he said. 

“We’re fifteen minutes away from that. Should we like… DoorDash Taco Bell?”

“Will they deliver to a car window in the parking lot of the community center?”

“Sonic does it.”

“So we should order Sonic?”

“I think they’ll only deliver to cars if the cars are, y’know, there.” 

“Well I think they should build a Sonic at the community center,” Kenny huffed.

“Or we could just go to the football game?” Craig suggested. Kenny flopped his head over to glare at Craig.

“I thought you wanted to stay here,” he said. Craig feigned innocence.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude. I want those six corn dogs.” Kenny called him a jackass and blew smoke at him, cackling to himself. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and Craig found himself both craving more of those crinkles and wishing he could see his eyes again. In the absence of blue for him to focus on, he let his eyes flick down to the freckles across Kenny’s face. He’d been working a construction job over the summer, and his skin was lightly tanned and his freckles were dark and plenty. His blond hair was bleached nearly platinum from the sun, and the last of the scrapes on his knuckles were finally healed up. Construction work tapered off significantly in the winter, and the companies could only afford to keep their regular employees on payroll, instead of the summer help they hired. Kenny’s tan would fade and his freckles would recede a bit, and the scrapes and wounds on his hands would be replaced by ink and soap when he took a job at a diner next week. 

Craig didn’t mind admitting to himself, only when he was good and high, that he really did like them blond and pretty, as Kenny had once accused him of. And Kenny was as blond and pretty as they came. 

He kept it to himself, though. Locked up in a cramped little box with caution tape over it, encased entirely in cement.

Kenny drove them to the stadium, cranking down the windows so they didn’t actually achieve a state of speechlessness. Craig tucked the pipe back into Kenny’s glove compartment and spent the rest of the ride trying to determine if he was actually going to be able to eat six foot long corn dogs without throwing up. Probably not, but he was goddamn hungry regardless. 

When they pulled up, they had to park what felt like a mile from the stadium. It was packed, and Craig had never been more grateful for recreational drug use. The late October evening was a little more than crisp, and Craig tugged his hat down further, obscuring his hair entirely. Kenny stepped up beside him, tucking his hands into an old orange parka that he’d pulled from under the driver’s seat. Craig raised an eyebrow at him.

“You’ve been wearing orange since fourth grade, dude,” he said dryly. 

“Fuck you, it hasn’t been _ exclusively _ orange,” Kenny said mildly. “They’re all hand-me-downs from my brother, back when my dad actually had a job. They’re not really name brand, but they didn’t come from a thrift store, so they’re warm enough.” Craig figured as much, and he nodded. It wasn’t like he had anything name brand, either.

“At least you wear it well,” he said with a shrug. Kenny’s eyes widened and his lips parted, stumbling into Craig’s arm. Flushing darkly and grateful for the gusts of wind that had been battering them as they approached the stadium, he grabbed at Kenny’s arm and stabilized him. “Klutz,” he muttered, pointedly looking away. Were he more sober, he never would have said that out loud. He released Kenny’s arm and shoved his hands back into the pocket of his zip up, picking at the corner of his pack of cigarettes. Kenny didn’t say anything to him, and he was grateful. They showed their school IDs to the half asleep gate guard, and they were granted free entrance to the game. Kenny reached out and grabbed at his arm.

“Please tell me we can go get food now? I’m starving and I might actually die of the munchies, because I am really fucking high, dude,” he said, leaning in close. Craig snorted.

“Yeah, okay, let’s go get a churro or twelve.” 

The stadium entrance was at the top of the bleachers, so they jogged down one of the aisles, descending the stairs to the walkway next to the short wire fence that separated the stands from the spongy red track that circled the football field. The cheerleaders were hyping the crowd up, and students, teachers, and parents alike were packed into the stands, chattering loudly. The din of the crowd made it impossible for Craig to hear anything Kenny might have said to him, but he did feel a tugging on the hood of his zip up, and he ducked his head a little, a flush creeping up his neck. Their height made it easy to cut through the crowd, but it also made them easier to pick out. They were nearly to the concession stand when Token caught sight of them, skipping down five bleachers and stepping between spectators to give Craig a friendly shove. 

“Hey, dude! I thought you weren’t - jesus, you smell like a skunk,” he made an exaggerated face, fanning in front of his nose.

“Like you never get high in your pool house,” Craig muttered, knocking his shoulder into Token’s. His friend waved his hand dismissively.

“Straight A basketball players _ never _ do that,” he said airily. He also lied through his teeth, because Craig knew for a fact that Kyle and Token lit up a joint after every basketball game - at least two of them if they won. Which was often. “Seriously though, I thought you said you weren’t going to come.”

“Apparently all it takes is a little hotbox and the promise of food and he’s all a-tremble,” Kenny piped up, bringing both hands down on Craig’s shoulders and leaning over him from behind. Craig batted him off with a scowl that he had to force into place to stop the laughter that wanted to force its way out. “Go smooch Token for a while, I’ll grab us food.” And then the weight on his back was gone, and Kenny was sliding through the crowd like water, a head above everyone else. 

“If you don’t come back with at least two corn dogs, you can’t sit with us!” Craig shouted. Kenny tossed a hand in the air, indicating that he’d heard, and kept walking. Craig rolled his eyes and turned back to Token, who was looking terribly amused, eyebrows raised. “What?”

“Nothing, just glad Kenny’s helped you.. I dunno, just, helped you more than we could,” he said, not sounding upset or jealous in the slightest. Craig narrowed his eyes. In fact, he sounded… smug? 

“You can keep your implications to yourself,” Craig muttered. Token grinned, his eyes narrowed and self-satisfied. 

“Think what you want, man. I’m just happy you’re actually talking again,” he said. Craig crossed his arms and huffed, avoiding looking at Token. Token was used to his friend’s churlish behaviour, and just chuckled and clapped him on the back. “Come on, Tweek and Jimmy are saving our seats.” He turned to walk back up the stairs, pausing to look back at Craig. “We have a seat for Kenny, too.”

“Fuck off, Token.”

“Craig?”

In a split second, Craig felt every bit of progress he’d made in the past few months come to a screeching, heart-stopping halt. His back went rigid and his breath caught in his throat. He turned, stilted and mechanical, and saw Thomas standing a few feet away, separated by only a few students. It had only been a few months since he’d last seen him, but he’d barely changed. Craig wasn’t sure if he’d expected him to in such a short time. His dirty blond hair was just as casually messy as it had ever been, looking like it had been purposefully styled into disarray, though Craig knew he used no products in it. His small brown eyes were bright, and the circles under his eyes were ever present, but did nothing to detract from his attractive face. 

“_Shitballs! _ Man, it’s good to see you! _ Cocksucker! _” So quickly, he was standing in front of Craig, reaching out to hug him. Craig flinched away, recoiling so harshly that he backed into someone. He ignored their dirty look, unable to tear his gaze away from Thomas. His ex lowered his arms, looking crestfallen. 

“_Fuckbucket!_ _Shit fondler!_ I’m… how have you been?” he asked softly, timidly. 

“What are you doing here?” Craig demanded, his voice louder than he’d intended. Out of his peripherals, he saw Token turn around, but couldn’t discern his expression. Thomas looked contrite. 

“Well, uh, the Cows are playing my school tonight, _bitchtits!_ _Pissflaps!_” He pointed to the scoreboard, which likely had the name of his school beneath the Cows. Craig didn’t look. He didn’t care why he was there, only that he _was_ and that he’d had the balls to seek him out. “You, uh.. You look good, Craig. _Artist formerly known as cumdumpster!_” 

“I look _ good _ ?” Craig snapped, his hands balling into fists at his sides. Thomas flinched, and Craig felt a bolt of heartbroken satisfaction roll up his spine, coalescing in the back of his throat and bursting forth in a rage laced with the agony he’d been sitting on for months. “Do I look _ good enough _ now, Thomas? Fuck you.” 

“Craig, you know, oh, _ tramp mangler!_, you know that’s not -”

“It _ is_,” Craig hissed. “In fact, I’m pretty sure the exact phrase was ‘you’re just going to be a deadbeat like your father’, so yeah, I’m going to say that’s exactly what it is,” he spat. On the stairs, Token cursed; it was the first time he’d heard details about Craig’s breakup. Thomas looked genuinely hurt, and Craig kind of wanted to punch his stupid, handsome face. 

“I, _ jizz dingleberry! Bloated shit balloon!_, said I was _ sorry _ for that,” he pleaded. “Dude, I just want to, you know, make sure, _ herpetic cocksocket!_, that you’re okay.” Craig heard Token groan, and recognized it as his put upon ‘oh christ, I’m going to have to pull him off of someone’s bloodied face, aren’t I?’ groan. Craig bit the inside of his mouth hard enough to make it bleed, and he could feel his body vibrating with anger. 

“I’m fucking _ fine_, no thanks to you,” he ground out, his voice made of frost and steel. “I have people that I’m good enough for, and that’s enough for me.”

It was more than he ever should have admitted to his ex, but he’d never had a solid control on his anger before. Thomas looked like he’d been slapped, and that was it, Craig hit a wall. He couldn’t move further, he couldn’t get any angrier, he couldn’t be any more hurt than he was now. From the moment he’d heard Thomas’ voice, every memory he’d had with him had been playing in his mind. Every fight, every underhanded insult Thomas had made about his ambitions and hobbies, every night he spent awake, wondering why he wasn’t good enough for some kid with fucking tourettes. Worse, he remembered the times he’d laughed until he’d cried, every gasping breath he’d taken in bed, every time his chest swelled with love for him. He forced those memories out with those last words, letting them flop around on the ground like the wet, struggling body of some disfigured monster. They writhed and squirmed at his feet, clawing at him and stealing the breath from his lungs. 

He turned and stormed up the stairs of the stadium without another word, the tattered, gored memories clinging to his back like a tick.

He shouldered his way past the throngs of latecomers, his long legs carrying him quickly through the parking lot. He fished a cigarette from his pocket and fumbled with a lighter, his hands shaking so badly he dropped the lighter twice. He inhaled deeply, letting the nicotine fill his lungs. He coughed once, probably thanks to his nearly breakneck pace, and sniffed against the cold and definitely not from the burning that was beginning to prickle behind his eyes. He made his way to Kenny’s truck, where he crawled into the bed of it and rested against the back, his head thumping heavily against the glass of the back window. He sucked his cigarette down until only the filter was left. There were a dozen or so butts in the bed of the truck with him, so he didn’t feel guilty about flicking his to join them. He immediately lit another one, and fully intended on lighting a third after that, and maybe even a fourth.

Craig focused on keeping his mind carefully blank. He thought of the colour white, thought of radio static and stars and the inky void of space. He thought about the slow expansion of his lungs with each breath, the way they burned with smoke and gasped in relief when he breathed between drags. He moved his hand and thought about how he didn’t have to think about how to do it, just that it happened.

He thought of Kenny, with blond hair and clear blue eyes and a smile like a solar flare. 

He untwisted his hand from where he’d been gripping his black jeans, his fingertips numb with the pressure, and smoothed the fabric down over his thigh. He unclenched his jaw and let his body fall slack, his shoulders sagging and his head sinking down to his chest. He forgot about keeping his mind blank, and for the first time, let cornflower blue fill his mind entirely. 

“I have three corn dogs with your name on ‘em,” he heard a few moments later. He was so entrenched in his thoughts that he startled forward at Kenny’s voice. He was leaning over the edge of the truck bed, dangling a bag of food in his hand. A paper plate with four slices of pizza stacked on top of each other sat on the edge beside him, and two sodas. He had his chin in his hand, staring at Craig with a soft smile on his face. “There’s also churros and some M&M cookies in there.” He set the bag beside Craig, then climbed up on the back tire and hoisted himself into the bed of his truck. He set up the food and drinks between them, withdrawing a corn dog from the bag and passing it to Craig. 

Craig looked at him, making sure to keep his face as carefully blank as he could manage. He took the corn dog, staring down at it. Kenny nudged his arm.

“Don’t think about it, just eat the corn dog,” he said softly. He reached for his own slice of pizza and slowly began to eat it, staring toward the bright stadium lights. Craig took a deep, shuddering breath and bit into his food. In some disconnected part of his mind, he was frustrated that his experience tonight had stolen his desire to eat, because it really was a damn good corn dog. He only finished one of them, tossing the stick over the side of the truck and washing it down with a soda. He sat back, leaning against the back of the truck again, and stared up at the sky. It was a cloudy night, and he couldn’t see the stars. Probably wouldn’t have seen them even if it were clear, with the light from the stadium illuminating everything even this far away. He didn’t know what he would say to them even if they were present. 

He was picking at the seam of his jeans on the side of his thigh when he felt Kenny’s warm, calloused hand touch his own. Just his fingertips at first, tracing around the knuckle of Craig’s pinky, and then his palm slid across the back of his hand. Craig stopped toying with his jeans and slowly, hesitantly, rotated his hand beneath Kenny’s so that their palms were pressed together. Kenny flattened his hand, urging Craig to do the same. He shifted, pressing his fingers to the cracks between Craig’s until he spread them, and Kenny laced their fingers together, sliding down until he was wrapped around Craig’s knuckles. 

Without tearing his eyes away from the stars, he gripped Kenny’s hand, adjusting his fingers so that they were pressed as close as they could get. Kenny held him back just as tightly, and Craig felt him run his thumb in little circles over the back of his hand. Now that he’d calmed down, he still felt the buzz of his high thrumming gently through him, and he thought that was maybe the only thing that kept him from cracking open like a grapefruit and sobbing pathetically. He still felt raw and open though, like a wound that hadn’t even had the chance to scab over properly before someone dug into it with their fingernail, spreading searing pain and blood all over. 

Soft sounds reached his ears, and he thought it must be the din of the football game across the parking lot, but it was far closer than he first guessed. He closed his eyes, and realized that it was Kenny, and he was humming a song, the faint vibrations just barely carrying the sound to Craig. He didn’t know the song, didn’t care to know the song. He breathed deeply. Stroked his thumb across the back of Kenny’s hand. He felt the hot sting of tears behind his eyes, and he was suddenly grateful for the clouds in the sky, obscuring him as he was from the stars. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got eager again so have another chapter. I'm starting chapter seven, but I'm going to write at least two more chapters before I post anything else. Let me know what you think - drop a kudos, leave a comment. Mindless consumption of fics kills writers!
> 
> This chapter title is a song by Dessa, called Call Off Your Ghost and it's spectacular. Listen to it! Just not on Wednesday, which has been cancelled due to a scheduling error.


	4. This is My Way of Saying Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "One night of magic rush  
The start of simple touch  
One night to push and scream  
And then relief"  
_-José González, Heartbeats_

On Black Friday, Kenny had somehow managed to convince Craig to go out shopping with him. Craig only agreed after Kenny had promised him that they wouldn’t be standing in line at three in the morning, freezing their balls off and trying to avoid being trampled. Kenny only needed one thing, he said, and it didn’t matter what colour or style it was - he just needed the sale. 

The one thing turned out to be a cell phone for Karen. The old flip phone that had been passed down from Kevin to Kenny, and from Kenny to Karen, had finally refused to charge anymore, leaving her without a phone. She spent two nights a week babysitting, and Kenny refused to let her walk home after dark, so she needed a way to contact him. He wanted to get her a nice phone and put her on his plan. Kenny’s phone plan, he’d learned, was actually Sheila Broflovski’s. Well, she didn’t actually have a phone on it, but she’d set it up for Kenny, and he gave her the money every month for it. Kenny admitted, sheepish but proud, that he’d been saving money since the beginning of summer for this, and Craig thought he looked a little emotional when he picked out a brand new iPhone for his little sister. He told Craig to pick out a case as he worked out the details of the plan with the Horizon employee. 

Craig looked over the cases, eventually picking one out that was a gold and black marbled design. It was one of those tough cases with a rubber interior and smooth, sleek edges on the exterior plastic casing. He picked up the matching popsocket that hung next to it, and before he knew what he was doing, he quietly stepped away from Kenny and made the purchase with a bored looking employee. He set the bag next to Kenny without a word, having already pulled out his phone to distract him from the wide-eyed, approving smile Kenny beamed at him. 

Kenny was practically vibrating with glee when they left the store to go grab some lunch at the food court in the mall. They ate Sdarro pizza standing up, because there were absolutely no free tables in the food court. It seemed like all of South Park was at the mall, and yet they miraculously didn’t run into anyone they knew. They saw Bebe eyeing jewelry in a display window at Gered’s and Clyde was nearby, sweating profusely, but they didn’t stop to say hello. They left the mall and went to the Dollar and Fifty Cent Tree to grab some cheap candy and off brand Doritos, and a fresh bag of pumpkin seeds for Stripe, before they headed back to Craig’s house. His mother had recently purchased an Amazon Prime account, and they had plans to begin binge watching all the free movies that came with it. 

Craig’s house was empty - his mother and father were out starting their Christmas shopping, and Tricia was also out with friends, enjoying the four day weekend. He went to the kitchen and pulled some sodas from the fridge, along with a pint of Jen & Berry’s ice cream and two spoons. It was just past one in the afternoon, and he had a pipe in his room, waiting to be packed and passed between them. He nudged Kenny up the stairs, who was juggling the bags of snacks and Karen’s gift. He shut his bedroom door behind him, set the ice cream and sodas down on his desk, and reached in to pet Stripe in greeting. 

Stripe was cold and stiff, and didn’t move when Craig rubbed the tip of one finger between his ears. 

Craig felt like the floor had given out under him.

“Stripe?” He didn’t hear himself talk. He didn’t feel like he moved his lips, he didn’t feel the vibrations in his throat push the word into existence. He reached down, his movements mechanical and shaky, and gently touched his beloved pet again. He scratched under his chin, but his head flopped uselessly to the side. A fractured cry burst forth from his throat before he could hold it back, and he gripped at the wire frame of the pen. His vision flooded immediately, fat tears blurring the world around him. He looked up, gasping for breath, and Kenny was there, his face crumpled in concern. Craig was vaguely aware of a warm hand on the small of his back, the other covering his fist as he gripped the pen so tightly that the wire bit into his palm and his knuckles turned white. His shoulders hunched and he ducked his head, clenching his eyes shut as the tears finally broke past his eyelids and fell onto the dresser that the pen sat upon. 

Stripe died, and Craig hadn’t even been there to help him. What if he’d been in pain? What if he’d been looking for Craig in his last moments and found nothing but an empty room?

A harsh sob choked its way out, and Craig drew in a ragged, wet breath. Kenny’s arms were around him instantly, his chest pressed to Craig’s shoulder, hugging him from the side. Craig reflexively gripped at Kenny’s arm, which was up high enough for Craig to bury his chin into. Craig felt like a hole had been punched through his gut, like every bone in his body had been snapped. His throat may as well have been lined with thorns for as painful as it was to even draw a breath into his lungs. 

Craig wasn’t one to seek comfort in the form of any person. Even when Thomas had left him, he’d simply holed up in his room by himself, pulling himself from his mother’s sympathetic embrace and burrowing under his blankets, despite the heat of summer. Maybe one day he would analyze why he found himself turning in Kenny’s embrace and clutching at the other boy’s back. It was a move that was way out in the left field for him. He knew it, and he thought Kenny knew it, too. Kenny, for his part, didn’t hesitate for a single heartbeat, wrapping his arms properly around Craig and letting him bury his face into his shoulder. Craig’s whole body shook and he clutched at Kenny’s back, digging his fingers into his sweatshirt. One of Kenny’s hands slid up to cup at the back of his head, scratching gently at the base of his neck. Craig bit back another wet sob, sucking in a shuddering breath through clenched teeth. 

Kenny slowly began to lower them to the ground and Craig went willingly. Kenny reclined against the dresser and gently maneuvered Craig so that he was sitting between his legs, curled against his chest, crying quietly. Kenny hummed to him softly, holding him tightly and resting his chin atop his head. Craig pressed his face into Kenny’s collarbone, twisting the string of his hoodie around a finger as he clung to him. His sobs had quieted but the tears were persistent, and he curled in on himself against Kenny. He smelled like American Spirits and Irish Spring, and it was an intoxicating combination that Craig didn’t quite know how to process. He didn’t really have the mental capacity to give it much thought at the moment, so he simply curled closer to Kenny and let himself cry. 

\---

Craig wrapped Stripe in an ancient t-shirt that he’d long ago outgrown, placed him in a ziploc bag, and tearfully settled him in the freezer in the basement. He’d talked it through with Kenny, and the thought of Stripe rotting in the ground, being eaten by all manner of insects brought on a fresh wave of tears. He couldn’t do it. What would happen when he moved out? Stripe’s skeleton would stay in the corner of the backyard of his parents’ house. He couldn’t handle that thought, so Kenny had suggested cremation. At first, he’d been horrified - he wasn’t actually going to torch his beloved guinea pig. But Kenny had googled pet cremation, and he read off some of the benefits. The closure he would get once Stripe was brought back to him, and the ability to keep his pet with him wherever he went in life were reasons enough to agree to the cremation. Kenny had waited upstairs, allowing Craig to have a last private moment with his guinea pig. When Craig emerged from the basement, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie, he found Kenny in his kitchen, staring out the back door and speaking quietly into his phone. 

Craig leaned against his refrigerator, staring a hole in the back of Kenny’s head. His eyes were still wet, and he fervently wiped the tears away as he watched Kenny nod to himself. Now that he’d sobbed into Kenny’s shoulder for an hour, he couldn’t imagine breaking down around anyone else. Of course, if he’d been asked about it this morning, he’d have flipped them off and and told them to go fuck themselves. But now… he couldn’t help but feel grateful for it. He had someone in his life that he trusted enough to allow them to see him in such an uncontrolled state. He didn’t mind that Kenny had seen him cry. Out of all his friends… out of everyone he knew, Kenny was the one he knew wouldn’t judge him. He trusted Kenny more than anyone, he realized. 

He knew, too, that what he felt for Kenny was more than what he’d ever felt for Token, or Clyde. He’d only ever thought about it while he was high, though. Admitting it to himself sober was a little terrifying, and he’d probably have a more visceral reaction to it if he weren’t so completely exhausted. He’d unpack it later, when he could go more than two minutes without crying. 

Kenny eventually hung up with whomever he was talking to, sliding his phone into his pocket and turning around. He walked up to Craig, looking so genuinely morose that one might think it had been Kenny’s pet that had died. 

“So, uh, I called a place in town that… helps put pets to rest,” he said delicately. Craig swallowed, fresh tears beading up. “They’re open until nine tonight.” Immediately, Craig shook his head.

“I can’t. Not… I can’t,” he choked. To his horror, he felt his lower lip begin to quiver, and fresh tears raced down his cheeks. Kenny’s eyebrows knit together in concern and he was immediately in Craig’s space, arms around him, fingers threading into the hair at the base of his skull, his hat having been discarded an hour ago. 

“I know. I didn’t think you’d go for it, but the option was there,” Kenny murmured, his voice soothing and low. Craig nodded against the side of Kenny’s head, clinging to him like a buoy at sea. “You wanna go lay down?” he asked. Craig nodded again, a little hiccup making its way out before he could stop it. Kenny pulled back just enough to cup Craig’s face and wipe his tears away with his thumbs, offering him a weak but sincere smile. Craig tried to smile back, but he was pretty sure it just manifested in a pathetic wibble. Kenny stared straight at him, blue into green, his lower lip caught between his teeth. For a moment, Craig thought Kenny might lean in, but the other boy just brushed his thumbs across his cheeks again before taking one of his hands and leading him out of the kitchen. 

Craig had looked to his desk, doing his utmost to avoid looking at Stripe’s pen. Kenny must have put the melted ice cream away, but everything else was still where he’d dumped it. Kenny moved the bags with the snacks and Karen’s phone to the floor. He kicked his shoes off and tugged the blankets of Craig’s bed back. Craig toed off his own old Converse and immediately crawled into bed, grabbing one of his pillows and holding it to his chest as he curled in on himself. Kenny sat down beside him, elbows on his knees as he ran a hand down his face. Craig brought his knee up and nudged at the small of Kenny’s back. 

“You gonna come over here or what?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow. Kenny smiled down at him, his eyes bright and blue and so kind they made Craig ache. Kenny pulled the blankets back and shifted down until he was burrowed under the blankets, facing Craig. He shifted and reached for one of Craig’s hands; Craig responded immediately, threading their fingers together and tugging them close. Their eyes locked and, far in the back of his mind, Craig marveled at the fact that he wasn’t beet red. With his free hand, Kenny reached for the pillow.

“Can…” He paused, looking unsure. Craig nodded, agreeing to whatever it was Kenny wanted. He’d have fetched him the stars if he wanted them, just to make that hesitant look on his face go away. Indecisiveness didn’t suit Kenny. The pillow was slowly tugged out of Craig’s embrace and tossed to the floor behind him. Kenny opened his arms they met in the middle of Craig’s bed, wrapping around one another. Craig threw a leg over Kenny’s as he buried his face into his hoodie and tried to level his breathing out. His head was pillowed on one of Kenny’s arms and the other rested between his shoulder blades, and Craig felt his thumb gently stroking him. He looped one arm over Kenny’s thin waist and shoved the other under his neck and then lifted it so that his arm was at a ninety degree angle, his forearm cradling the back of Kenny’s head. 

“I need to… I need to do something,” Craig said softly. Kenny quirked an eyebrow, but said nothing, waiting for him to continue. “Please just… pretend that I’m not, okay?” He felt Kenny’s fingers knead against his back.

“Pretend you’re not what?” he asked. Craig sighed, not willing to discuss that talking to the stars was something that his childhood therapist had him do when he was in any state of heightened emotions. It wasn’t something anyone knew about him, not even his parents. 

“Just pretend that I’m laying here without saying anything, okay?” he asked, subdued and embarrassed. 

“Sure, Craig,” Kenny said, his voice so laden with affection that Craig wanted to kiss him. He nodded instead, shifting a little in Kenny’s embrace so that he stared up at the ceiling, at the hundreds of little stars that had been so meticulously arranged into constellations. He saw the little pits in the plaster where Craig had pulled off the stars that Clyde had stuck up there haphazardly, not following the very specific star charts that Craig had printed at school in second grade. The sun was setting and the stars were beginning to glow their neon green, faint in the relative light of his room. He didn’t hear Stripe’s quiet shuffling anymore.

He spoke, his voice so low that it might as well have been a whisper. He could feel Kenny’s gaze on him, but he refused to look over at him. He couldn’t let Kenny swallow him; this was for Stripe, and for the stars. He spoke in muted tones about the day he’d received Stripe, how he’d come to Craig as a birthday present with a second guinea pig named Zigzag, who had died a year and a half later of an infection. He told the stars that Stripe had been his best friend, and had seen him through breakups and fights with friends and even that one time he thought his parents were going to split up when he was in seventh grade. 

Every word was painful, his throat constricted and tight. He cried, tears falling unrestrained into his hairline, but he didn’t wipe them away. The arm that had previously been used as a pillow for Kenny’s head was now free, and he wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. He didn’t know what to do with it, letting it curl uselessly between them until Kenny picked up his hand and curled it in toward his chest, threading their fingers together and holding on tight. 

He told the stars that Stripe knew things about Craig that no one else ever would. Talked about how holding Stripe on his chest and listening to music was a feeling that wouldn’t ever compare to anything else in the world, and that he suddenly felt that he hadn’t indulged in it nearly enough now that he’d never get to do it again. He talked about how grateful he was to have had Stripe for as long as he did - nine years was a long life for a guinea pig, especially one who didn’t have any other pigs with them. 

When he finally ran out of words (or breath, or feelings - he wasn’t sure which it was), he stared at the ceiling for a long while, the plastic stars glowing a little more brightly as the light in his room faded further and further. He wanted to whisper that he missed his pet, but the tears choked him too harshly for him to verbalize anything further. True to his word, Kenny stayed quiet and still the entire time Craig spoke. Craig was fairly sure that Kenny stared at him the entire time, but he knew somehow that he wasn’t being judged. Just held. Listened to, by more than just the stars, for the first time in a very, very long time. Surely it was the first time in his life that he’d been this honest in front of anyone else. 

Craig had been silent for several long minutes before Kenny moved, pulling him close again. He didn’t brush his tears away this time, and moved to tuck Craig’s head under his chin, cradling him close. Craig went willingly, allowing himself to be tucked against Kenny like a child, reveling in the safety and warmth he felt. Kenny began to hum again, so soft, and Craig’s last thoughts as unconsciousness claimed him was that Kenny had a beautiful voice. 

\---

The following Monday was a nightmare for Craig. Clyde had texted him Saturday night to see if he wanted to come to a party, but he really wasn’t in the mood. Not that he ever was to begin with, but Stripe’s death had left him feeling a little hollow. Getting drunk or high would only end with him sobbing in a corner, and he would rather stick his head in a vice than let his classmates see that. So he’d told Clyde about Stripe, and his friend had replied with a ton of crying emojis and an ‘I’m so sorry, dude!’. Predictably, Clyde had showed up at his house less than an hour later with three bags of Taco Bell, tears already spilling down his face when Craig opened the door. Craig had rolled his eyes as Clyde clung to him and bawled, but he felt warm and loved. 

Clyde, though, couldn’t keep information to himself for anything, and so he soon got texts from Tweek, Token, and Jimmy, expressing their condolences and telling him to reach out if he needed them for absolutely anything. He sent back brief but grateful messages back, and promised to see them all in school on Monday. 

Unfortunately, since Clyde knew, Bebe also knew. Which meant, naturally, that their entire class was aware that he’d lost his pet. 

For the most part, all he got were sympathetic looks. A few of the girls grasped his arm in the hallway, fixing him with with watery, compassionate eyes. He fought back rolling his eyes, but the grimace he fixed them with never left his face. 

Kenny sat with him at lunch that day, and he was comforted by his presence at his side. Kenny didn’t have a lunch that day, so Craig gave him half of his peanut butter sandwich. Kenny ducked his head when Craig passed it to him, smiling softly to himself. Craig caught Token’s gaze immediately after and flipped him off when he saw his friend’s smug look. Jimmy was telling a string of new jokes to the table when a tall, broad student approached them. He stood at the end of the table, closest to Kenny. It was Cartman.

Eric Cartman had, like most of his classmates, changed drastically as he entered adulthood. Gone was the shapeless flab of his childhood. He was tall - not quite as tall as Kenny, but standing at least an even six feet. He was broad shouldered and he was less fat and more muscle these days. He might be intimidating if he weren’t such a pussy; Craig had beat the shit out of him last year, and the two weeks of detention was worth it to see Eric Cartman with a black eye and a sprained wrist for a month. 

“Hello, rejects,” he greeted, crossing his arms and gazing down at them with an undeserved smugness. “Heard about your rat, Fucker.” 

Craig tensed, refusing to look up at him. Cartman really should know better than to pick a fight with him. Craig had a record of violent outbursts, and whether he won the fight or not, his opponent never came out of it unscathed. 

“Christ, go away, Cartman,” Token snapped, sounding more weary than angry. Cartman placed his hand over his heart, feigning hurt.

“I’m only here to express my _ condolences_,” he simpered. “I lost my dear Mr. Kitty last year, you know. It was awful.” For a moment, he sounded sympathetic. Craig knew better, though. Cartman didn’t have the capacity for sympathy. He’d witnessed that firsthand at one of Token’s parties during their sophomore year, when Stan had walked in on Cartman with his head buried between Wendy Testaburger’s legs. Cartman had been completely unapologetic in the face of Stan’s devastation. The only emotion he’d even expressed was satisfaction, his superiority complex rearing its head and preening at the fact that he’d stolen the golden quarterback’s girlfriend right from under his nose. Most of their class had watched on in disgust as Cartman gloated, every laugh and thrown barb cementing the destruction of whatever remained of his friendship with Stan. When Cartman stepped closer to Stan, no one but Stan himself had been surprised when Kyle swung his fist into the side of Cartman’s head, then brought his foot up to kick him square in the chest as he staggered backward. He’d pummeled Cartman until he was nearly unrecognizable, wiped the blood from his knuckles on Cartman’s shirt, and then dragged a shell-shocked Stan away from the party. Cartman hadn’t spoken to either of them since then. So Craig waited for Cartman to once again display to the world that he was incapable of a single human emotion. “But I mean, at least I’d never shoved Mr. Kitty up my ass like a fag. That poor, poor little guinea -”

He cut himself off when Kenny stood, shoving his chair back with enough force to knock it over. Craig finally looked up, eyes wide. He stood toe to toe with Cartman; Kenny stood taller than him, his lean frame seemingly adding more height so that he loomed over Cartman. Craig couldn’t see his face, but he didn’t need to. The way Kenny held himself radiated anger and subtle, leashed control. Cartman harassing Craig into a fight was enough to set every tongue in the cafeteria to wagging; Kenny standing over Cartman with death in his eyes silenced them all again. 

It was a known fact that Kenny had never lost a single fistfight. He was fast and deceptively strong, and until a year and a half ago, he’d been in a fight on a weekly basis. The school never failed to gather around, cheering and betting against whatever poor sap had taunted Kenny McCormick into another fight. Stories of his prowess traveled through Park County, and all of them were followed up with hushed whispers of how his teeth remained miraculously intact, lending to the mythos that he’d never been punched in the face. 

The most gossiped subject of their junior year had been why Kenny had stopped fighting. Seemingly overnight, their resident Tyler Durden had unclenched his fist and refused to throw another punch. He gave a different reason to everyone who asked - the Catholic church was paying him a thousand bucks a month to stop hurting people. The LaVay Satanists threatened to curse him if he kept filling hell with useless teenagers. Conor McGregor was blackmailing him, intimidated by his growing power. The rumour mill churned like an angry river, but no one could figure out why Kenny had stopped fighting.

Craig knew the truth, though. Kenny had spent a night in jail after beating the shit out of an older man who’d wolf-whistled at Karen one evening when they were walking home from the movies. Broke his jaw, three ribs, and snapped his femur in half. Unfortunately, the man was a senator’s brother-in-law. Fortunately, the senator hated the guy. It still meant a night behind bars, until an ‘anonymous benefactor’ had paid his bail. The stint in jail hadn’t been enough to deter Kenny from fighting. It was when he got home and saw Karen’s black eye from their father that he swore he’d never do anything that left him unable to protect Karen again. Kenny hadn’t been in a fight since - he’d been the picture of wholesome poverty, spending his days after school working and his nights at home to fend off his father. 

Kenny hadn’t so much as threatened anyone since then, and it seemed like the entire school had just been waiting for him to snap and go back to his old ways. Craig’s eyes were wide as he watched Kenny veritably tower over Cartman. He took more than a small bit of satisfaction in seeing Cartman’s face flash with uncertainty as Kenny looked down on him. Of Cartman’s childhood friends, Kenny was the only one who spoke to him anymore, on occasion. 

“I’m giving you one chance to walk away, Cartman,” Kenny said pleasantly. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his zip up and cocked his head, waiting for Cartman to respond. Cartman’s countenance wavered for a moment before he grinned at Kenny. He leaned around Kenny to look at Craig, smirking. 

“Aw, Craig, are you proud of your new boyfriend for standing up for you? That’s so sweet of him. Did you shove your hamster up his ass too?” 

In an instant, Cartman was falling back on his ass, rolling on the floor and clutching his balls, which had just been kicked into his throat by Kenny’s bony knee. Cartman gagged, tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Kenny raised his foot, fully intending on bringing his worn boot down on Cartman’s crotch. Craig touched Kenny’s elbow, and he paused, turning around to look at his friend. Craig shook his head minutely, grateful when Kenny seemed to deflate. The anger bled out of him, and he turned around to face Craig. 

“J-Jesus,” Cartman gasped from the ground. “You really are a… a fuckin’ fag, Tucker. It was bad enough that Kenny’s poor, but now you’re turning him into a brownie too.”

Craig narrowed his eyes, finally pushing away from the table. He picked up his tray of food, rearranging the remains of his peanut butter sandwich so that it was open. He pointed at Tweek’s food, which remained, as usual, largely untouched. Tweek shoved his tray over, and Craig piled the fruit cup, corn, and salisbury steak with gravy onto his tray. He picked it all up, stepped over to Cartman, and dumped it onto him. Cartman screeched in fury; his balls hurt too much to stop cupping them, so the food splattered all across his face and chest. The cafeteria burst into a mixture of muffled laughter and awed whispers. Craig flipped Cartman off for good measure. Kenny crouched down to him, his hands dangling between his knees and his blue eyes cold and sharp. He whispered something to Cartman that Craig couldn’t hear, but Cartman’s eyes darted to Craig, and then back to Kenny before his mouth set itself in a grim line, his gaze hardening. Kenny smiled brightly at Cartman then, his face doing a complete one-eighty from the glower it had been set in before. He patted Cartman’s cheek mockingly and stood, stepping over him and looking at Craig. He jerked his head towards the door and Craig didn’t need any further convincing. 

He followed Kenny out of the cafeteria, both of them somewhat tense as they exited the school. As soon as the doors banged shut behind him, Kenny was pulling a cigarette out, handing one to Craig before withdrawing his own. Craig provided the lighter, first to Kenny and then to himself. Kenny fished his keys out of his pocket as they approached his truck. As they climbed in and started it up, heat blasting out at them, Craig picked at his thumbnail.

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said quietly, hoping he wasn’t coming across as ungrateful. Kenny exhaled the smoke from his cigarette with a terse laugh.

“Sure I did. You’re…” He paused, considering his words. Craig looked up at him, and Kenny’s hand was shaking as he held his cigarette above the ashtray in his truck. “You don’t deserve Cartman’s shit.” Craig took a drag from his own cigarette, and at this point it was the only thing that kept him from leaning over and covering Kenny’s mouth with his own. He thought about asking him what it was that he’d whispered to Cartman, but Kenny seemed riled up. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Craig suggested. Kenny nodded, his cigarette dangling from his lips as he jammed the key into the ignition and started the truck. Loud as ever, but it started immediately with no trouble. “My parents aren’t home. We can smoke there.” Kenny nodded again, putting the truck into reverse and backing out of the parking lot. Craig thought they were home free, when Kenny suddenly stopped the truck to stare at a big black Hummer. Cartman’s truck. Kenny turned his head back to Craig after a long minute, looking mischievous - no, more than mischievous. He looked like the existential equivalent of vandalism, and it made Craig’s stomach flutter.

“Do you wanna cause a little mayhem tonight?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from Radiohead's song 'Videotape'. It's a sad one.  
This goes out to anyone who's ever lost a pet. We put our dog of sixteen years down this past summer and it was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. Losing a pet sucks, so I'm thinking about any of you who have gone through it or are currently struggling through it <3


	5. The Boy with the Lighter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "And now you steal away  
Take him out today  
Nice work you did  
You're gonna go far, kid"  
_You're Gonna Go Far, Kid - The Offspring_

Kenny was criminally intelligent. Craig was pretty sure that if he wanted to, he could be running a black market arms operation. As soon as they got into Craig’s bedroom, he got to work, bustling around the room with his phone crammed between his ear and his shoulder as he called Kyle. Predictably, he was with Stan during their free period, and Kenny told them to find a storage closet and put it on speakerphone while he dug around in Craig’s nightstand drawer for his bowl and the weed. Kenny set his phone down as he worked, tapping the speaker button.

“Okay, we’re in the suspicious closet,” Kyle sounded exasperated. “People are gonna talk if anyone saw us.” Craig had to bite back a snort, but Kenny didn’t offer his friend the same courtesy.

“Please, everyone’s already talking about you two,” he said. 

“Fuck you,” Stan said, entirely without venom. “What’s so important?” 

“Hang on,” Kenny said. He lit the bowl and took a hit, passing it to Craig while he held it. He exhaled and sighed happily. “Okay, so here’s the deal. Cartman fucking sucks.”

“No shit,” Kyle said. “Are we sharing obvious facts? Like how Craig -”

“Are you really going to talk shit about him while he’s sitting right next to me, listening to every word?” Kenny interrupted loudly, holding his hands up in disbelief. 

“Assholes,” Craig said in greeting, as if he’d tipped his hat and called them gentlemen. 

“Dude,” Stan groaned. Kenny waved a hand, seemingly forgetting that his friends couldn’t see him.

“_Anyway_,” he said. “Cartman is an asshole, and you guys need to come over to Craig’s house after school.” Craig frowned at Kenny, and he heard Kyle sigh into the phone.

“Can you please just elaborate?” he asked. Kenny grinned.

“Come over after school. Knock on the door, be welcomed genially into the Tucker household by Craig’s lovely mother, and we’ll meet you in the kitchen. We have a _ project _ to work on,” Kenny said, rubbing his hands together. He looked and sounded every bit the criminal mastermind.

“Kenny, we’re not sleeping with you and Craig,” Stan deadpanned. Craig was in the middle of an inhale and he choked. Kenny helpfully took the bowl from his hand and patted him on the back, and Craig heard sputtered laughter from the other end of the phone.

“Fuck you both, you’d be _ lucky _ to fuck either of us,” Kenny snapped. “Look, do you wanna make Cartman cry or not?”

“Okay, okay. So we come over after school. Then what?” Stan asked.

“We tell Craig’s mom that we’re working on a project. Craig and I sneak out, hot wire Cartman’s truck, light it on fire in a cornfield, and then sneak back in just in time to see you two out the door and thank you profusely for your help with our chemistry project while Laura sighs about how her sweet baby boy finally has different friends,” Kenny said. 

Craig couldn’t even shove him, blown as he was by this outlandish, brilliant plan. Silence greeted him on the other end of the phone.

“Take a moment to soak it in. It’s a stroke of genius, I know,” Kenny said sagely.

“You want to light Cartman’s truck _ on fire_?” Craig asked, incredulous. 

“Look, we all have plenty of reasons to hate him,” Kenny reasoned. “And frankly, I’m sick of him making the people I care about feel like shit.” Craig paused as he reached for the bowl. He stared at Kenny, but the other boy was steadfastly avoiding his gaze. Craig allowed a small smile as he wrapped his lips around the bowl, taking a long hit of it. 

“Dude, you’ll never -” Stan began.

“I’m in, I’ll do it,” Kyle agreed immediately.

Craig laughed. Loudly.

“Holy shit,” Stan murmured. Kenny rolled his eyes as he reached for the bowl and took another hit. 

“We can discuss your epiphanies later, Stanley,” Kenny huffed. “It’s a solid plan, it gives us an alibi, and leaves Cartman without his favourite toy and no possible way to blame us for it. Seriously, just get your asses over here after school.”

Kenny tapped his phone, disconnecting the phone call with his best friends. He took another hit before passing the bowl back to Craig. He reclined on Craig’s bed, having kicked his shoes off at some point. 

“This is going to be fan-fucking-tastic,” he said, his grin casual and bright. Craig exhaled a plume of smoke at him, and Kenny breathed it in dramatically. 

“We’re going to get arrested,” Craig said. Kenny shook his head.

“Nah. We don’t even have to go far. There are like, six cops in this whole town. It’s a Monday night. We’ll be fine.”

“We don’t have to. I ignore Cartman most of the time,” Craig said quietly. Kenny sighed, sitting forward. 

“Every time we’ve ever tried to teach Cartman a lesson, it always backfired on us. We never thought things through as well as he did, and he got to continue to be a shitty little chucklefuck. So this time there’s no lesson. Just some karma that we won’t be blamed for,” he said. Craig looked up at Kenny, thinking once again of asking him what he’d whispered to Cartman in the cafeteria, but he decided against it. “Are you in?”

“I don’t want this to go pear shaped and get you separated from Karen,” Craig admitted. Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed a little, looking overwhelmed and breathless and hopeful. Fuck, he looked so hopeful. So determined to commit a crime that he believed was justified. Craig thought it was too, of course, but Kenny looked like the thought of burning Cartman’s truck was going to cure the world of its poison. He was earnest and open and Craig was powerless. "Okay, fine. I'm in. Let's do this."

He’d have burned a dozen trucks for Kenny. 

\---

They killed the three hours until school let out by watching Dragonball Z, and when Craig’s mother came home, he went downstairs to tell her that he was expecting two of his friends to come over for a chemistry project. Kenny took care of texting Kyle details about their fabricated project to talk about with Laura when they arrived. 

Kyle and Stan showed up around six thirty that evening, and the sun was already setting behind the mountains. They were downstairs chit-chatting with Laura when Craig and Kenny descended the stairs. Kenny waved around some papers, looking as excited as one could be about starting a fictional project. Craig had vanished into the kitchen, coming back with chips and salsa, a bag of Doritos, and two two-litre bottles of soda that his mom had brought home from an office party. Kenny grabbed the bottles of soda just as they were about to fall from his grip and he held them against his chest, squeezing them suggestively while his back was turned to Craig’s mother. Craig snorted in laughter, ducking his head. Stan and Kyle stared at him, bemused, and his mother just looked serene and happy that her son was smiling. 

Craig eventually gestured to the stairs, and his mother told him that she wouldn’t disturb them so that they could focus on the work, since they seemed so excited to work on it. Kenny shot him a smug look that looked dangerously good on him and followed Craig up the stairs. Craig shut his bedroom door behind him and set the food down on his desk. His room suddenly seemed tiny, with four tall teenagers standing in it. Kenny leaned down to Craig’s laptop and logged into it, presumably to set up some music. This didn’t go unnoticed by Stan and Kyle. Kyle crossed his arms and cocked an eyebrow at Craig; both of Stan’s eyebrows shot up towards his hairline and he narrowed his eyes. Craig had heard of couples who shared a deep bond being able to communicate without speaking, and he thought that the same phenomenon applied to kids who’d grown up since birth in the same fucked up town in the mountains. He scowled and flipped them off just as Kenny was turning up the volume to a respectable level and angling the laptop toward the door. He spun around, hands on his hips and looking as devious as anyone ever had.

“Okay, so we wait till it gets dark and then we sneak out the window, hot wire Cartman’s truck and drive it to a field, offer it to the pagan gods and dance naked around it while it burns, and then book it back here before… uh…” Kenny trailed off, looking at Craig expectantly.

“Mom usually goes to bed around eleven thirty, right after my dad gets home,” he supplied. 

“Right! Then!” Kenny finished brightly. 

“And what do you want us to do that whole time?” Kyle asked, his arms still crossed.

“I’ve got a PlayStation 2 and some games for it,” Craig said with a shrug, feeling embarrassed about not having a newer system. He’d never felt like this when he was with Kenny, but he knew that Stan and Kyle had the newest systems and latest games. Fortunately, they didn’t seem taken aback by his offering. “I’ve got some DVDs too. Mom’s Amazon Prime account is logged in on my laptop. Just don’t buy anything.” Stan and Kyle shared a look, and they shrugged.

“That works,” Stan said agreeably. 

“Just make sure you thump around sometimes, laugh, recite the periodic table or something,” Kenny added. Kyle rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. Kenny grinned back at them.

“I owe you guys big for this one,” he said sincerely. Stan’s face softened, and for a moment, Craig understood what Kyle saw in him. He was handsome and kind, and his blue eyes glittered when he smiled at Kenny. 

“Just don’t get caught and we’re good,” Stan assured. Kyle smirked.

“And bring back whatever weed fatass has in there. Rip it apart,” he said, a little viciously. Kenny held up his fists, and his friends bumped their knuckles into him. 

“There’s a spare gas can with like, a gallon and a half left in it in the back of my car. Use it well, Charlie,” Stan said judiciously. 

They waited another half an hour, and at around seven fifteen, Craig cracked open the window beside his bed. The porch of his old clubhouse was barely half a jump away when they were kids, but with their long legs, it was just a step out his window. Kenny went out first, dressed in one of Craig’s black hoodies. Craig, also in black, followed. He leaned back in the window and squinted heavily at Stan and Kyle, who were sitting on his bed and flipping through his DVD collection.

“Dudes,” he said. They turned around, looking at him curiously. “Don’t fuck on my bed.”

He shut his window before they could punch him, and he smirked as he flipped them off. He climbed down to the grass below where Kenny was waiting. They flipped their hoods up and snuck around to the front of his house. Stan’s car was unlocked, and Kenny took the gas can out of it. They cut through people’s backyards until they got to Cartman’s house. They peered at the back of his house from beyond the fence, and saw Cartman wandering around in his room, talking on his phone. 

Crouching low, they crept along the fence line until they were back out on the street, where Cartman’s Hummer was parked. Sliding along to the side of the truck facing the street, Craig tried the door. It popped open immediately, and he looked back to Kenny in disbelief, rolling his eyes. Kenny muffled a laugh into his hoodie, and he crawled into the car and ducked up under the dashboard. He snapped the wires out from under it and thanked whatever deities remained that the original Hummer was an ancient piece of shit that was susceptible to hot wiring. The truck hummed to life, and Kenny quickly pushed Craig into the driver’s seat with the gas can.

Craig scrambled in with a grin on his face, dropping the gas can at his feet. Kenny hopped into the truck, threw it into drive, and, to Craig’s surprise, eased onto the accelerator so that the truck slowly and quietly pulled away from Cartman’s house. Two houses down, Kenny floored it, turning out of the neighbourhood and onto an open stretch of road that would lead to a currently bare covered corn field. It was a short drive, which could be both problematic and a blessing. It would be a quicker trip back to Craig’s house, but it also increased their chances of getting caught. Regardless of this, Craig couldn’t help but feel excited. The grin hadn’t left his face, and when he looked over at Kenny, he saw his thrill mirrored in the blond. 

Kenny drove off the dirt road and up the small hill, driving about twenty yards into the cornfield before stopping. He put the truck in park and immediately popped the center console open. He dug around until he pulled out a fifty dollar bill and a bag of weed. Craig found the world’s tiniest glass bowl in the glove compartment, along with a polaroid of Wendy’s tits. Craig held it up between two fingers, showing it to Kenny with a smirk.

“Think Stan’d be interested in this anymore, or nah?” Kenny snatched the picture, cackling. 

“Probably not. He’s so in love with Kyle it’s not even amusing anymore,” he said. He tossed the picture to the floor, not even stopping to ogle it or stick it in his pocket. The way Kenny carelessly discarded the picture made Craig’s stomach flip. With the truck sufficiently looted, they hopped out and checked the back seats and trunk. Finding nothing that they could benefit from, they took turns dousing the interior of the truck in gasoline. Kenny crawled half under the truck to dump some in a little puddle right below the gas tank and then poured it in a line leading away from the truck. 

They stood several yards away from the truck, and Kenny dipped the tip of a bitten down corn cob into the remainder of the gasoline. He pulled a lighter from his pocket and got down on one knee in front of Craig, holding both of them up to him. 

“Craig Tucker, would you do me the honour of lighting Cartman’s truck on fire?” he asked, the sincerity in his voice at odds with the smile that stretched across his face. He knew he should have cracked a joke back at him, but all Craig could think of was that Kenny’s smile was made of all the best parts of life, and how glad he was that he was the recipient of it. It was an average November night in the same shitty little town he’d always known, but it seemed so much less terrible when Kenny was smiling at him. He was pretty sure that he’d leeched the humour out of the situation with his rising flush, but he took the corn cob and lighter from Kenny regardless. 

As Kenny stood, shifting to stand beside him once again, Craig flicked the lighter to life. He looked up to the sky; it was a clear night, and even though they were only five minutes or so outside of town, the stars were so much brighter with no street lamps to dim them. They twinkled down at him, and he wondered what caused the flickering. Was it the earth’s atmosphere distorting their light? Or were there clouds in space, filtering their light out from millions of light years away? If he waited there long enough, would the stars take pity on him and send one of their sparks down to him and light the truck on fire? 

He felt Kenny cup the hand that held the flickering lighter. He looked over at him, his blue eyes shining. The smile on his face was so soft and conflicted so wildly with the arson they were about to indulge in. 

Maybe one of those sparks from a star was already here with him.

He let Kenny guide the lighter to the corn cob, and he had precious little time after the fire consumed the gasoline to hurl it toward the truck. It was instantaneous; the little scrap of flame bled out onto the gasoline, eating it up and rising from it like a bastardized phoenix. It raced beneath the truck to curl and coil on the puddle of fuel Kenny had left. A single spark popped onto the open door of the truck and it caught the gas there and followed the food to the interior of the truck. 

Craig’s heart hammered in his chest when Kenny grabbed his hand and dragged him backwards, not stopping until they were another fifteen yards away. He didn’t let go, and Craig threaded their fingers together and held onto him tightly, his gaze fixed on the conflagration in front of him. One of the tires burst in a flurry of sparks, the sound of it making him flinch. He grinned and squeezed Kenny’s hand tighter when something inside of the truck exploded, sparks and bits of flame flying from it. He could feel the heat coming from it now, the flames licking high into the air. A small explosion went off in the center of the truck, and Kenny tugged him back further still, laughing. Craig gripped his hand and raced back with him, watching as the black smoke climbed higher and higher into the sky above them. 

The fire burned, eating up more and more of the truck with every passing minute. It hissed and popped and crackled as sleek black leather seats were consumed, and Craig tried to imagine the way the all-weather floor mats bubbled up and dissolved in the heat. Kenny was squeezing his hand in a grip that was almost painful, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. A window shattered, sending fire and glass and smoke scattering across the field. Kenny’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. Craig glanced at him and saw that his lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear what he was saying. He bit his lip, squeezing Kenny’s hand twice to get his attention.

“What did you tell Cartman? In the cafeteria today,” he said. “You whispered something to him.”

Kenny flushed; it was a little hard to tell with the orange light of the fire reflecting on his face, but Craig could see the way it inched down his neck. He looked sheepish but unapologetic.

“I may have told him that, uh… that you’d be the one I’d break my peaceful streak for,” he said, his voice soft and almost indiscernible over the truck shaped bonfire ahead of them. “And that I’d start with him if he ever said anything to you again.” 

Craig stared at him, disbelief and wonder and adoration warring for a position on his face. His chest constricted and his stomach felt like it was doing its best to grow wings and flutter up through his esophagus. He wanted nothing more than to press Kenny’s face between his hands and kiss the breath from him. He wanted to wrap a hand around his waist and haul him close, feel the long press of his body against his and tangle fingers into his bright blond hair. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this way - there were too many heartbreaks and scars between the last time he’d felt this overwhelmed and now. He thought about taking Kenny back to his room, kicking Stan and Kyle out, and packing them both into his bed and taking the rest of the week off to simply hover in each other’s space. 

He wanted to turn to the stars and shout about how Kenny McCormick was the greatest thing that had ever happened to him in his short seventeen and a half years. He wanted to babble about the way Kenny’s eyelashes brushed against his freckles when he looked down or grinned. He wanted to point to him and ask why the hell he’d been made of sunshine and stardust. He wanted to ask if the stars if Kenny was made of the same stuff, or if they’d simply coalesced and shot to Earth for him. 

The truck exploded.

It was a spectacular blast that sent a wave of heat rolling over them. It blew their hoods back, and it was so bright and hot that they clenched their eyes shut and looked away for a moment. When they lowered their arms, the flames had engulfed the entire truck. They climbed fifteen or twenty feet in the air, and the rotting stumps from the fall harvest around it had caught fire as well. A smaller explosion went off, sending sparks and flaming hunks of interior flying. Craig held tighter to Kenny’s hand, grinning wildly as the truck popped and roared. He knew they’d need to make themselves scarce soon, but he didn’t think he’d ever find another moment of peace quite like this. 

Kenny squeezed his hand twice, and when Craig turned to look at him, he had his phone out. It was Kyle’s old iPhone 8; Craig himself had a hand-me-down from Token, but it was an iPhone X, given to him when Token had gotten the XS Max for his birthday earlier that year. Kenny shook his phone at Craig, grinning.

“Go pose, I need to commemorate this. This is probably the best night of my life so far and I need proof that it happened so that when I’m old and grey and dementia sets in, I can look back and remember that we were the greatest badasses to ever live,” he said sagely. Craig laughed, unrestrained and genuine. He released Kenny’s hand and took several steps towards the inferno. 

He stared at the fire until his eyes hurt. He couldn’t imagine how today had managed to culminate in arson, but he wouldn’t change a single thing. He was thoroughly fucking with someone who was probably the worst human being South Park had ever seen alongside someone who was probably his favourite human being in South Park. Not even a month ago he’d still been hurting over Thomas. Now, Craig couldn’t imagine ever feeling sad over him again. For a moment, he wished he’d brought a picture of Thomas to burn up in the truck. It could have sat on the floor next to Wendy’s tits. Still, he supposed, it was Thomas who had sparked the chain of events that led him to this field on this night. Fitting, then, that Craig closed his eyes and envisioned every memory with him burning up in that truck, bubbling and vanishing as the flames licked at them. He jammed one hand into his pocket and lifted the other one in front of him, flipping off the blaze in front of him. He held his middle finger up at it in defiance of Cartman’s lifelong douchebaggery and as a fuck you to Thomas, who would have absolutely disapproved of this. He had a feeling that arson would showcase every aspect of his personality that Thomas never found good enough. 

Kenny, though…

He lowered his hand and turned to look back at Kenny. He was holding his phone up, presumably having had snapped a photo of Craig flipping off a car fire. A few seconds passed and he lowered his phone and grinned so widely that Craig was sure, now more than ever, that Kenny was actually a star. Kenny wasn’t looking at him like he was a future deadbeat. He wasn’t judging, he wasn’t waiting for Craig to drop out of school after stealing and incinerating a vehicle. He was simply there, with his corona smile and stardust freckles.

Craig resolved to let the stars know that one of their own had defected to Earth, and that they probably weren’t going to get him back. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a short chapter today, but it's one of my favourites so far. "Charlie" is a nod to Firestarter, by Stephen King, because I'm a cliche little horror groupie like that.


	6. Interstella 5555

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "So take me to the paradise  
In your eyes  
Green like American money  
You taste just right  
Sweet like Tennessee honey"  
_\- Børns, American Money___

“What is that?” Craig asked, raising an eyebrow at Kenny’s truck. A crude metal snow plow was attached to the front of the old Chevy and Kenny stood beside it, looking as proud as a father watching their firstborn start college. He slapped the hood of his truck.

“This is a _ money maker_, baby,” Kenny said with a grin. “I made it myself in shop class! The guys down at the mechanic’s shop installed it for me, they owed me a favour.” 

“And you’re going to plow the roads in South Park?”

“Well, I’m not plowing anything else at the moment, so I might as well make an honest dollar or two,” he said with a wink. Craig rolled his eyes, grateful for the stinging wind that already had his face red. “If you come with me, I’ll split the money I make with you.” 

“Paying me for my company now, McCormick?” Craig asked, amused. 

“Stan and Kyle are grandfathered in, but you still have the chance to bolt. Have to keep you around somehow,” Kenny said with a smirk. Craig sighed dramatically, leaning down to feign interest in the plow.

“Oh, I don’t know about that. You’ve been doing pretty well for this long; your money isn’t suddenly interesting,” he said. Kenny laughed.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t got shit. Get in, Tucker.” 

The snow hadn’t started yet, but the weather station had reported an incoming blizzard that was going to dump an estimated thirty inches on them. School had let out an hour early under the threat of the impending storm, and Kenny and eagerly dragged Craig to his truck. On their way out of the school, they passed a sullen looking Cartman glaring daggers at them. 

They’d been investigated by the police, accompanied by a screaming Cartman in the principal’s office. He’d insisted that they were the only ones with motive enough to do something so heinous and vile to his beloved truck. When Kenny and Craig had insisted that they’d been working on a project with Kyle and Stan at Craig’s house that night, Cartman flew into a rage that had only been assuaged when the principal had called Stan and Kyle into the office. The police summoned Craig’s mother, who was rightfully pissed at having to leave work to deal with this. At first, she’d been angry at Craig, until the police officer had asked what Craig and Kenny had been doing the night of the theft and arson. 

Laura had blinked at the officer in confusion and informed him that all four of them had been in Craig’s room the entire time. The fire had been discovered at approximately nine fifty-seven that night, but her son and his friends couldn’t have been responsible for it at all, because she’d watched them go upstairs just a few hours earlier, and then had checked in on them at ten to ask them to turn the music down. All four of them were sprawled out across Craig’s room, a few textbooks open between them and more than one Dorito crushed into the carpet. 

She explained all of this with crossed arms, her irritation shifting seamlessly from her ostensibly innocent son and his friends to Cartman and the police officer. Cartman had looked for a moment like he was going to protest, loudly, but then thought better of it. He soured in the chair like a petulant child, and Craig had struggled to keep a straight face while the police officer apologized to Laura for pulling her away from work. 

Exonerated, the four of them had walked out of the principal’s office and celebrated to themselves immediately after rounding a corner. Stan had high fived Craig and Kenny scooped Kyle up and spun him around. Kyle was almost more giddy about all of this than Craig was, spinning out of Kenny’s embrace to wrap himself around Stan, cackling madly. Caught up in vindicated glee, Craig wanted nothing more than to do the same to Kenny. He turned to Kenny with a grin and promptly felt the breath leave his lungs. Kenny was staring up at him, a soft, fond smile on his face, head tilted to the side. He held his knuckles up, and Craig robotically bumped his fist against Kenny’s, his grin never wavering. 

Now all Cartman could do was throw them dirty looks. He was perfectly aware that they’d been responsible for what had happened to his truck, and he knew that they knew that he knew, but he couldn’t do anything about it. Between Kenny’s threat of kicking his ass and lighting his truck on fire, he kept a solid distance from them. That suited Craig just fine. He still flipped Cartman off as he walked past, though, relishing in the fact that he was virtually untouchable. 

So now they sped out of the parking lot, the snow plow elevated so it didn’t tear up the asphalt. Craig flicked through Kenny’s cassette collection while Kenny drove to Craig’s house. The driveway was already salted and it crunched under the tires of Kenny’s truck. His mother was in the kitchen when they made their way into his house, and she had hot chocolate waiting for them. She asked them what their plans were for the evening, and Kenny happily told her that they’d be rolling in cash by the end of the weekend. She hummed thoughtfully, sipping at her own hot chocolate.

“You ever thought of starting your own business? The market for snow plows is, somehow, completely open. You could make good money,” she said. Kenny raised his eyebrows, blinking owlishly. Laura shrugged. “South Park is covered in snow for three quarters of the year. If you can bottleneck the market, you’d be sitting pretty.” Kenny smiled charmingly.

“Mrs. Tucker, you’re a genius,” he said warmly. Laura smiled and patted Kenny’s hand.

“Something to think about, anyway.” 

Craig looked at Kenny over the rim of his mug, and he could see that he was genuinely thinking it over. His mother was right - there were no private contractors for snow removal in South Park. The town relied entirely on whatever spare plows the Park County Municipal Services could spare, and from the gossip he’d heard, the mayor paid an arm and a leg for South Park to be forgotten about until the last minute. Given the intelligence displayed by most adults in town, he found he wasn’t surprised that none of them had thought to start a business. Then again, with most of the town driving around in station wagons, that didn’t exactly lend to snow-clearing thoughts. 

“You gonna be an entrepreneur?” Craig asked, only half joking.

“I just might,” Kenny answered. Craig thought he was half serious. 

They made their way to Craig’s room to wait for the snow to start, and by seven PM, Kenny had his first phone call on an old burner phone. Craig was already standing in the upstairs hallway by the time Kenny turned to speak to him. Seeing him ready to go, Kenny’s face split into a grin. He snatched his keys from Craig’s desk and held out his hand. Craig smiled and grasped Kenny’s hand, at least until they made it down the stairs and were approached by his mother. She handed them two large thermoses filled with hot chocolate and pressed a wrinkled twenty into Craig’s hand, telling him to stop and get food while they were out. Craig thanked his mother while Kenny hugged her, making her laugh. 

There was already a few inches of snow on the ground, and Craig quickly shoveled off his front porch and the sidewalk leading up to it so that his dad wouldn’t have to do quite so much work later. They hopped into Kenny’s truck, cranked the heat, and backed out of the driveway. Craig watched Kenny fiddle with the controls for the plow, and when they were in the street, he dropped the plow to the ground and began to move forward. The scraping sound was jarring and obnoxious, but when he leaned over the dash, he saw that it was working well, angled properly to push the snow off to the curb as Kenny drove by. He flashed Kenny a thumbs up, and they made their way to the community center parking lot. 

Plowing snow, Craig discovered, involved a lot of backing up and moving forward, a lot of three point turns and tiny reversals. Start and stop, repeat for eternity. He popped a cassette of The Pixies into the player and sat back while Kenny hummed along, twisting and turning in his seat as he navigated the parking lot. The plow continued to perform admirably, and Craig could see Kenny visibly preen every time he successfully cleared out a new part of the lot. 

An hour or so later, the manager of the community center arrived at the driver’s side door of Kenny’s truck, expressing his thanks and pressing a hundred dollars worth of fives and tens into Kenny’s hands. Kenny accepted it graciously, thanking the man for the opportunity to work, and kept his cool for exactly the amount of time it took for the old man to make it back inside, after which he promptly lost his shit.

“A hundred bucks? One hundred goddamn dollars, Craig!” he shouted, waving the money around. Craig smiled at him, a little starry eyed. 

“And that’s just from one lot. We have to get to the City Hall next,” he said.

“You’re goddamn right we do!” Kenny whooped, throwing the truck into drive and making his way down the road as swiftly as he could. The snow was beginning to pile up, so he dropped the plow to the ground as he drove. 

It was dark out now, the yellow street lamps illuminating the snow as it fell. The town was quiet except for the scrape of the plow, everyone having retreated to their homes to wait out the storm. Kenny turned the heat up with a little shiver.

“I hope the power doesn’t go out,” Kenny said, frowning a little as he watched the snowfall grow heavier. “I just paid the electric bill, it’d suck if the storm knocked it out anyway.” He was talking about Karen back at his house, Craig knew. 

“Do you want to stop by your house and take her to mine? Mom and Tricia won’t mind, and dad likes having a kid around that doesn’t flip him off,” Craig offered. Kenny chewed on his lip.

“We can grab her if the power kicks out. As long as it stays on, she’ll be okay. The furnace actually functions well when the bill is paid,” Kenny answered. He glanced at Craig, smiling softly, gratefully. “Thanks.” Craig nodded, a flush creeping up his neck as he ducked his head. He thought it was horrendous that a seventeen year old had to pay the bill to keep his family from freezing in the harsh Colorado winter. It spoke volumes to Kenny’s character that this is what he decided to do in his spare time - build a plow for himself in school and spend his evening plowing roads for free and parking lots for far less than what he should have been charging them. Kenny could light a hundred cars on fire and still be ten thousand times the person Cartman ever even pretended to be. 

Plowing the lot to City Hall took a little longer and a lot more finesse; Kenny’s truck wasn’t small, and it was difficult to get into certain parts of the lot. Kenny maneuvered all the snow into a back corner, piling it twice as high as the roof of his truck. Craig sipped at his hot chocolate, feeling useless. He changed the music selection to The Smiths, which he always thought fit the winter months well. Kenny sang under his breath, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel as he spun it around and around. 

When the lot was sufficiently plowed, Kenny hopped out of the truck and pulled his hood up, trudging up to the double doors of City Hall and disappearing inside. Craig occupied himself by leaning his head against the cold window of the truck and looking up at the stars. Snowflakes fluttered in front of the stars, glittering and being generally indiscernible from the stars beyond. He crammed his hands between his thighs and hunched his shoulders, trying to think of anything but Kenny and failing entirely. 

Ever since that night in the corn field, just a few weeks ago, all he wanted to do was tell Kenny just how important he was to him. Knowing that Kenny would willingly start fighting again for his sake made him feel like he was worth something again. Not worth Kenny’s affection, but something. Craig didn’t know if anyone in the world, barring Karen, was truly worthy of being on the receiving end of any of the endless goodness that Kenny McCormick had to offer. He was soft and protective and fierce and strong. Brave and brash and smart and so painfully kind that Craig was willing to murder anyone who thought to take advantage of him. Craig certainly didn’t feel worthy of any of the good things Kenny was exclusively made of, but Kenny stuck around regardless, and damn it all if that didn’t make Craig want to try. 

Craig was lost in thought, whispering to the stars about Kenny what a hopeless fool he was for him when Kenny walked back to the truck, looking thunderstruck. He slid onto the bench seat on the driver’s side, shutting the door behind him and slumping down a little, his eyes soft and unfocused as he stared at nothing.

“Are you okay, dude?” Craig asked gently, leaning over him. Wordlessly, Kenny handed him an envelope that Craig hadn’t noticed he was clutching in a death grip. Puzzled, Craig flicked it open and his jaw hit the floor when he saw that it was packed with fifty dollar bills. Kenny dragged a hand down his face.

“_Six hundred fucking dollars_,” he whispered, sitting up and leaning forward over the steering wheel, pressing his forehead into it. Craig’s eyes widened as he thumbed through the money, and yeah, it was six hundred bucks in crisp, new fifties. He looked back up at Kenny sharply as he heard the other boy draw in a shuddering breath. Kenny pressed the balls of his hands into his eyes, a grin in place despite the emotion drawn all over his face. He looked over at Craig and his eyes were glassy and wet. “I can give my little sister a fucking Christmas this year, man.”

Before Kenny could even draw in another breath, Craig had tossed the envelope up onto the dashboard and was sliding across the bench seat. He pulled Kenny into his arms and hugged him tightly, wrapping his arms around his neck and pressing his cheek to damp blond hair. Kenny responded immediately, winding his arms around Craig’s waist and burying his face into his neck, sniffling against his emotions. One of Craig’s hands found its way to the back of Kenny’s head and he threaded his finger into his soft hair; his stomach flipped with the way Kenny sighed against him, burrowing closer. It was what felt like several long minutes before Kenny pulled back, wiping at his eyes. 

“That’s my pay for whatever streets I plow, this lot, and the mall. And that’s just for today. For _ now_. That doesn’t include the rest of the weekend,” he said, smiling as he grabbed the envelope. He fished the other hundred dollars from his pocket and stuffed it into the envelope, passing it to Craig to hold onto. Craig was fully aware of how much trust Kenny was showing in him, and he held onto the envelope reverently. Kenny drove to the mall, the plow dropped the entire time to keep the roads clear. He took the long way, driving through neighbourhoods and down side streets, as they still hadn’t seen the municipal snow plow come through yet. 

The mall parking lot was the easiest job - a wide, flat expanse of blacktop with few lamps to get in the way. Craig changed the music to Daft Punk’s _ Discovery_, which was, of course, their absolute best album. Kenny danced in his seat as he drove, unable to contain his excitement at having made more money in one night than he made in a month at the diner. His joy was infectious, and Craig found himself humming along to the music and tapping his hand against his thigh to the beat. 

When Kenny finished plowing the lot, he drove to a Jack in the Box, where they ordered as much food as the money Craig’s mother gave them would buy. It was ten at night and the snow was still coming down heavily; Craig knew that Kenny wouldn’t be able to turn in for the night without giving the streets another pass. Kenny drove them out to Stark’s Pond, letting the truck idle so they wouldn’t freeze. They ate their food to _ Crescendolls _ and got into a french fry war during _ Superheroes_. 

Kenny kicked the empty food bag beneath the bench seat, leaning forward to dig through the envelope. He pulled several bills out and held them out to Craig. Somewhat horrified, Craig shook his head vehemently.

“I told you I was gonna split the money with you, dude,” Kenny said, trying to shove the money into Craig’s hands. Craig shoved his hands beneath his thighs and shook his head again.

“I sat here and picked out music. If you had a newer car with a three CD player, I’d be totally obsolete,” he argued. “I’m not taking your fucking money, Kenny. I’m not paying my parents’ electric bill, and christ only knows what else.” He softened, taking Kenny’s wrist and gently pushing it back toward him. “Get your sister a dozen more Christmas presents.” He watched Kenny’s cheeks colour as he placed the money back into the envelope, toying with it in his hands. 

“I’ve gotta pay you somehow,” he said, looking up at Craig with a mischievous glitter in his cornflower blue eyes. Craig rolled his eyes, a small smile on his face.

“You don’t owe me anything, jesus, all I did was -” 

He had words. Words that made sense, words that he was going to use to finish his sentence in a witty manner that would make Kenny laugh, he hoped. He was totally prepared to use those words, too, until Kenny decided that he didn’t want to hear any of them.

Kenny kissed him.

Kenny was _ currently _ kissing him. 

It was a soft, warm press of lips that tasted like salt. Kenny moved against him, one hand cupping his cheek as he slanted his mouth against Craig’s in sweet, salty perfection that Craig absolutely failed to respond to. 

Kenny pulled back, and for the first time since they’d started hanging out, his expression was fairly unreadable to Craig. For Craig’s part, he did his best to stay calm. His green eyes weren’t wide and his mouth didn’t hang slack, but he thought he probably looked like he was trying to have a serious conversation with a rock. Kenny didn’t react, just sat forward on his hands, leaning into Craig’s space and blinking slowly, those long blond eyelashes brushing against the freckles on his cheeks. Craig swallowed, licked his lips, watched as Kenny’s eyes tracked the movement of his tongue. 

“I don’t think that one kiss was worth half of what’s in the envelope,” Craig managed to say. 

Kenny smiled, a crescent of sunfire and shooting stars, the incomprehensible look leaving his face in an instant and replaced with plain jubilation. He reached for Craig again, and Craig met him immediately, eagerly pressing his lips to Kenny’s. He couldn’t stop the smile that crept across his mouth, bleeding onto Kenny and causing his lips to curl in turn. Craig picked his hand up and brought it to the side of Kenny’s face, cradling his jaw and running his thumb across his high cheekbones. Kenny gripped Craig’s face and scooted closer without breaking the kiss. Craig chuckled against his lips, his fingertips brushing against Kenny’s scalp behind his ear. 

Kenny’s lips were slightly chapped but they were warm and moved against Craig’s so softly. Craig shifted, twisting until he was facing Kenny properly, one of his legs coming up to rest on the seat between them. Craig pulled Kenny closer still and he went willingly, a soft little noise escaping Kenny’s throat as he moved. Emboldened, Craig opened his mouth and slid his tongue against Kenny’s lips, a gentle touch to the edge of his lower lip. It had the desired effect, and Kenny let out a little moan, opening his mouth to Craig immediately and licking at Craig’s lips. 

Desire shot through Craig when Kenny’s tongue met his, and he felt like his world was on fire. It was like a planet had exploded and was raining burning little scraps and cinders down around him. He gasped into Kenny’s mouth and pulled him closer still, and Kenny scrambled to shift closer. Craig settled his hands on Kenny’s ribcage and tugged, needy for contact. Kenny broke the kiss reluctantly and pulled his knees under him, shuffling closer until he had a knee on either side of Craig’s hips. Craig’s stormy teenage hormones sang out to him, urging him to pull Kenny flush against his body and he did so, one broad hand spread across Kenny’s lower back and the other threading into the fine hair at the back of his neck. 

“Holy shit,” Kenny whispered against Craig’s lips, cradling Craig’s face between his hands and kissing him fiercely. He was breathing harshly through his nose and tracing the contours of Craig’s mouth with his tongue, soft noises of desire vibrating from his lips and straight into Craig’s, making him feel wild and desired and fully encapsulated in wave after wave of lust. He reveled in the heat that radiated from Kenny and he moaned, unable to control himself and not wanting to. He’d never been particularly loud, but something about the way Kenny kissed him made him want to shout. “Holy _ shit_,” Kenny repeated, readjusting himself in Craig’s lap to get as close as he could. 

“Yeah,” Craig murmured, sliding down as Kenny situated himself, until he was lying down on the wide bench seat of the truck. Kenny straddled him briefly before laying down on top of him, slotting their legs together and propping himself up on his elbows so he could keep kissing him. Craig’s head had gone fuzzy, his mind a snowscape of white noise and obscurity. His chest was so tight with affection that he felt for Kenny and he breathed hard through his nose and took great gasping breaths between kisses. 

They kissed for what felt like several hours, and Craig decided that he wouldn’t have cared if it actually had been several hours. The truck was running and warm, and so was Kenny’s thin body on top of him. The only sounds to be heard was the heat running and the soft noise of snow falling around them, and their own harsh breathing. When Kenny pulled back, reluctant and breathless, Craig stared at him and felt whole. 

Snow was beginning to cover the windshield of the truck and backlit as it was by the park lamp, it bathed the interior of the truck in soft white light. The shadows of falling snowflakes from the passenger door fell across Kenny’s face like shooting stars, his blue eyes warm and bright and locked onto Craig’s own boring green ones. Kenny smiled, his teeth white and slightly crooked, and Craig didn’t think he’d ever seen anything look so good in all his life.

“You’re beautiful,” he blurted in his typical blunt way. He was too focused on the way Kenny reacted to even be able to feel embarrassed by such a confession. Blue eyes widened, and their shine caught the reflection of the snow falling outside, and even though he knew he was the one who’d just paid Kenny a compliment, he found himself breathless as well, struck again by how stunning Kenny was, and he found himself babbling again. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” 

Kenny’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, emotion rolling across his face like a storm, and he looked like he was very near to tears. He brought a hand up and caressed the side of Craig’s face, leaning in and kissing him softly. It was gentle and almost tentative and it was all Craig needed to know that everything he felt for Kenny was exactly the way Kenny felt about him, too. He could tell that Kenny didn’t believe him, but Craig didn’t mind. He’d just have to be persuasive from now on. 

As Craig leaned up to capture Kenny’s lips again, he thanked the stars for Kenny McCormick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title of the chapter is taken from Interstella 5555: The 5tory of the 5ecret 5tar 5ystem, a film collaboration by Daft Punk and Leiji Matsumoto. It's like an album-long music video of godliness. Daft Punk has fueled my writing process through this fic so far, specifically Discovery, which is their greatest album. 
> 
> ALSO THEY FINALLY KISSED EHEHE. These chapters look so much longer in google docs while I'm typing them up, and then I stick them in here and my scroll bar isn't as tiny as the effort I've put in would make me believe. Rude. Anyway, I hope you've enjoyed it so far! <3


	7. In All His Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “I took the stars from our eyes, and then I made a map  
And knew that somehow I could find my way back  
Then I heard your heart beating, you were in the darkness too  
So I stayed in the darkness with you”  
_-Florence and the Machine, Cosmic Love_

Craig hadn’t remembered the last time he’d enjoyed Christmas. His family never had much money to spare, so he didn’t get a truckload of presents like Clyde or Token did. They didn’t even have many decorations, like Stan or Butters. It was usually just a Christmas tree, some red and white tapered candles, and some old string lights thrown up on the banisters and in the bushes outside. His family would gather for a modest dinner on Christmas Eve, and then they’d open one random gift each before settling down in the living room to watch whatever holiday movie was playing on cable, usually _ It’s a Wonderful Life _ or _ Miracle on 34th Street_. It was always a very quiet affair, and Craig treated it the same way he treated most other days, with the sole exception of more family time.

This year had thrown a wrench in his usually very steady holiday traditions. 

His grandmother, his father’s mother, had fallen a few days before Christmas and fractured her hip. They’d visited her in the hospital, where the doctors had told them that she’d be able to go home if she had someone there with her. Otherwise, she’d need to stay in the hospital. A few phone calls and some tense private discussions later, and his father told both Craig and his sister that he’d be staying with his mother for Christmas. 

Craig _ understood_, he really did, but the disruption in his Christmas routine had his anxiety spiking unpleasantly. It only continued to eat at him when his mother told him the following day that she’d picked up a few extra shifts at the hospital, including one on Christmas Eve. Pay was doubled, and if she worked that fourteen hour shift, she’d both make good money and curry favour with her boss. She’d explained all this with tears in her eyes, not happy with leaving her children on Christmas Eve, but she really thought this was going to pay off in the end. Craig hugged his mother, understanding, really. Even if he was going to, admittedly, miss having his family together for their little tradition.

His mother wiped her tears with a smile, and Craig could practically see the pride radiating off of her. She narrowed her eyes a little slyly then, smirking playfully when she suggested that Craig could invite Kenny over in their stead. Craig groaned, dragging a hand down his rapidly heating face. He hadn’t explicitly told his mother about the shift in his relationship with Kenny, but he guessed it was her super mom senses. Or maybe the way he hadn’t stopped holding Kenny’s hand since the beginning of the month that had given him away. He decided, between his embarrassed mumbling and his mother’s soft laughter that he didn’t care if his parents knew. They hadn’t stopped him from closing his bedroom door when Kenny came over, and that was really all that he gave a shit about. He was too happy to care whether they knew he was involved again or not. They’d given him The Talk the second time he dated Tweek, so it’s not like they could say anything to properly embarrass him at this point, anyway.

Craig wasn’t much of a chef, but on Christmas Eve, he stood in his kitchen, trying his best to cook spaghetti for him and Kenny. Karen was apparently visiting Kevin in Denver, having scheduled the trip immediately after she’d caught Kenny pressing Craig up against the truck in Kenny’s driveway one day. Tricia was spending the night with their cousin Red, scoffing to Craig that she had no desire to watch him and Kenny sucking face to a black and white movie. Craig had the house to himself, and despite the lingering anxiety he felt at having his routine thoroughly demolished, he was thrilled to be having Kenny over to spend Christmas Eve with him. 

Earlier in the year, he’d started picking up shifts at the shoe store Clyde’s father owned. Just two or three nights a week, and never past eight thirty, but it allowed him to save up some money. The gifts he’d purchased for his parents and sister sat under the tree, waiting for them all to be back home as a family. Two more gifts sat below the tree, in beautiful blue and white wrapping paper. He’d wrapped and re-wrapped and then re-wrapped again until they were as near to perfect as he was going to get them, with tiny white bows adorning them. He was shit at buying gifts that actually meant something to the recipient, but he hoped Kenny would like them regardless. 

It was seven pm and flurrying lightly when Kenny knocked on the door and then let himself into Craig’s house, locking the door behind him. Craig set the lid back on the sauce and left the kitchen to greet him. He had a large box in his hands, wrapped in bright red and green paper and topped with a large, gaudy red bow. He grinned at Craig over the top of the box and, after kicking his sneakers off, moved immediately over to the tree, where he sat the box down gingerly and carefully arranged it. He dropped his duffel bag by the couch and made his way to Craig, his face bright and soft.

Craig brushed his hands against Kenny’s cheeks and kissed him, smiling into it and wondering if that he’d ever find the strength to fight the smile that bloomed every time he kissed him. Kenny tilted his face up into Craig’s kiss, his big hands settling on Craig’s hips and pulling him close. He sighed against Kenny’s mouth and beat down the urge to press the other boy into the door frame and drop to his knees for him. 

Later. Because, _ duh, obviously _ later.

Kenny pulled back with a smile, brushing his nose against Craig’s briefly. “What’cha cookin’, good lookin’?” he asked, his blue eyes flicking toward the kitchen. 

“Uh, spaghetti,” Craig answered, suddenly a little nervous. “And garlic bread. It probably isn’t any good, but I wanted to - to try, at least.” Kenny beamed at him, his smile bright as the winter sun and twice as warm. 

“Garlic bread? God damn, Tucker, you really know the way to my heart,” he said, taking Craig by the hand and leading him into the kitchen. He peeked at the garlic bread through the glass door of the oven and whistled lowly in appreciation. Craig turned off the burner for the noodles and dumped them into the colander in the sink, and then into a festive serving dish. While he was doing this, Kenny had fetched a pot holder from beneath the sink and was pulling the pan of perfectly golden garlic bread from the oven. Craig smiled to himself at the domesticity of it all as he spooned some noodles and sauce with sausages onto two plates. 

Arms wrapped around him from behind, a long, thin, warm torso pressing against his back. Kenny’s chin rested on his shoulder, dropping tiny kisses onto his ear as he prepared their food. Craig leaned back into the embrace, a contented smile on his face as he dropped two slices of garlic bread onto each of their plates. He twisted in Kenny’s arms and was immediately met with a kiss for his efforts. He sighed, smiling into the kiss as he always did, and nibbled playfully at Kenny’s lip. 

“You taste so good, Craig,” Kenny murmured, his hands running up Craig’s sides. “Might not even need dinner.” As delightful as that sounded, Craig pushed Kenny away, not without a pang of regret. 

“You better eat this damn food, McCormick,” he huffed. “Tweek teased me for an hour after I asked him how to make this.” Kenny placed a quick kiss on his lips and reached around him, picking up the plates. 

“You could have just dumped a jar of Ragu onto some noodles and heated it up in the microwave; I probably never would have known the difference,” he said generously, setting the plates at the kitchen table between the cutlery Craig had laid out. 

“No way,” Craig said, shaking his head. He poured them each a glass of iced tea from the pitcher in the fridge and took his seat across from Kenny. “This is our first Christmas together, you deserve better than Ragu.” He sniffed, lifted his glass to his lips to take a sip. “It’s Prego.” Kenny fluttered his eyelashes at him and pressed a hand to his chest.

“Fancy, loverboy.” He picked up his fork, mixing up his spaghetti, and then looked up at Craig coyly through his bangs. “First Christmas, huh? First of how many?” Craig flushed, stabbing at a noodle and refusing to meet Kenny’s gaze.

“Of however many I can take with you, dumbass,” he mumbled, not without great affection. Kenny tossed his head back and cackled, but said no more on the subject. “And you better notice the fucking difference. I put oregano in this.”

“Dude, this is really fucking good,” Kenny said, his mouth full of spaghetti. He followed this up with a bite of garlic bread. “Like, really goddamn good.” Craig flushed at the praise, eating his own pasta in silence. The lights were down low, it was dark and snowy outside, and Craig suddenly wondered why he hadn’t dug out a bottle of wine or something. Did he even like wine? Did Kenny? 

“You’re thinking really loud,” Kenny said, pointing at him with his fork. “Relax, babe.” Craig blinked widely at the pet name, and it went straight to his gut. “Dinner’s really good, and this is exactly where I wanna be right now. Nowhere else.” Craig’s face softened and stared down into his food, the corners of his lips twitching up in embarrassed pleasure. 

The rest of their meal was spent in comfortable silence punctuated only by the low crackle of the fireplace in the living room and the scrape of metal cutlery against their plates; he could barely hear the soft Christmas music coming from the TV in the living room. When they finished, Kenny took their plates and loaded them into the dishwasher. Craig shamelessly watched him bend over, whistling lowly. Kenny froze, then slowly rocked his hips from side to side. Craig stood from the kitchen table and stepped up behind Kenny, sliding his hand over his ass and squeezing. Kenny pushed back against him, humming contentedly. 

“As much as I want to sit your pretty ass on the counter and suck you dry, I think you should open your gift,” Kenny murmured. He twisted his head and placed a kiss to the corner of Craig’s mouth. “It’s a little time sensitive.” Craig rolled his eyes.

“Please tell me it’s not some weird toy that’s currently running its batteries down in my living room,” he deadpanned. Kenny hummed against his face.

“No, but now I know what to get you next year. Or maybe for your birthday,” he said, and Craig had no doubt in his mind that he was serious. He turned in Craig’s arms and sighed into a kiss before side stepping out of the embrace and tugging gently on Craig’s hands. “Come on. The dishes can wait.” Craig followed him out into the living room, doe eyed and feeling melty at Kenny’s blatant affections. Kenny pulled the box he’d brought with him out from under the tree and moved to sit in front of the fireplace. Craig picked up the boxes that had Kenny’s name written on the labels in his messy scrawl and joined him. The TV was still playing Christmas music lowly and Kenny was sitting cross legged on the floor, beaming up at him. He knelt down and set the gifts in front of Kenny, balling his hands on his knees.

Kenny scooted around the box and shifted closer until their knees were touching. Craig nudged at the little blue boxes with his foot.

“Open the bigger one first,” he said, trying his hardest to keep the anxiety from his features. Kenny reached for the box, then paused. He rocked forward, bracing his hands on Craig’s thighs as he delivered a warm, soft kiss to his lips. Craig responded eagerly, grasping at his head to keep him there. When Kenny pulled back, he looked a little breathless and starry eyed and so soft that Craig almost needed to close his eyes against the sight. 

“Merry Christmas, Craig,” he said, his voice velvety and confident. He sounded so sure of his words, and Craig felt his chest clench.

“Merry Christmas, Kenny,” he murmured, resting his forehead against Kenny’s and allowing his eyes to slip closed. Craig could feel Kenny grinning, and was rewarded with another quick kiss to his lips before the weight on his thighs vanished. 

Kenny picked up the bigger box and took the bow off, leaning back over to stick it onto Craig’s head. Immediately, he ripped the bow from the smaller box and plastered it onto his own blond waves, grinning as he began to peel the paper back. His jaw dropped and it took him another moment and the devastation of the rest of the wrapping paper for it to come back, and when it did, it was blinding. He looked at the plastic wrapped box of a brand new Apple Watch and then back up to Craig, his eyes impossibly wide and his smile unfairly bright. His nails scrabbled at the plastic and ripped it off, and he tossed the lid carelessly to the side. He pulled the watch out and ran his thumb over the film-covered surface of it. 

“Are you serious?” he asked incredulously, staring up at Craig in wonder. Craig shrugged modestly.

“What did you think I was saving my money for? We can charge it up later.”

“This is officially the nicest thing I own. Have ever owned. In my entire life,” Kenny said, staring down at the watch reverently. Craig felt himself puff up with pride and affection, and he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Yeah, well, there’s still one more,” he said. “It’s not as fancy, but…” Kenny picked up the little package and laughed, tearing at the paper. 

“You could have given me a candy necklace and I’d have probably lost my shit over it,” he said. The words were a joke, but the tone carried nothing but honesty. He brushed the last of the paper away and squinted down at the unknown name on the top of the box. He flipped the lid open, confusion evident on his face as he pulled out one of five hundred little white cards.

A picture of his truck with the hand-made snow plow attached to the bumper was front and center. In the upper left corner, in neat black ink, was his name and the number of that old burner phone. Arched over the top of the picture of his truck was his last name in big, bold lettering. Curved beneath it was ‘Snow Removal Services’ in a matching font. Upon brushing his fingers over the lettering, he found that it was pebbled slightly, rounding off a very official feel for the little business cards. 

When Kenny looked up at Craig, there were tears brimming in his bright blue eyes. He glanced back down and thumbed through them, and all five hundred of them were the same, emblazoned with his name. Craig clutched at his own ankles, shrugging.

“You’ve been plowing snow all month and giving out your number on pieces of notebook paper, and I want people to keep taking you seriously,” Craig explained quietly. Kenny looked up at him just in time for a tear to race down his cheek, falling into the sweatshirt he wore. Craig looked stricken. “Please don’t cry!” 

Kenny laughed, wiping the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. “This is the best gift I’ve ever gotten,” he said, his breath hitching a little. “Do you know what this says?” he asked, holding up the card.

“Uh… your name?” Craig said. Kenny laughed again, sniffling.

“No, dumbass. It says that you believe in me, in something that I’m doing,” he said meaningfully, smiling at Craig with a warm, watery gaze. Craig blinked at him and then smiled.

“Of course I do. I -” he cut himself off before he could do anything as cliche and cheesy as confessing his love on Christmas Eve in front of a fireplace after eating an Italian dinner. He kept thinking, irrationally, that he wanted to tell him at some special moment. But not a cheesy one, of course. It had to be perfect, and for some reason, he didn’t think that spending their first Christmas together alone in his house was perfect enough. “I know you can do anything,” he finished lamely. 

It was enough for Kenny, it seemed. He dove at Craig, tackling him to the floor. Their mouths smashed together and their teeth clicked painfully for a moment, until Kenny regained control over his momentum. He laid on top of Craig, slotted between long legs, grasping at his face and kissing him for all he was worth. People might not have said Kenny McCormick was worth much, but Craig knew he had every star in a dozen galaxies resting on him right now, and he kissed like he was trying to give them all to Craig. He wound his arms around Kenny’s neck, smiling into the kiss as Kenny licked into his mouth. As Kenny pressed their faces together, he could feel the wet of tears on his cheeks, and he couldn’t believe that a couple of cheap business cards had brought about such a heartfelt reaction, but he was happy that Kenny liked them. Happy that the little cards conveyed to Kenny that he believed in him, more than he believed in anything else. 

When Kenny pulled back, Craig chased his lips, nipping at them playfully and drawing him back in for another series of wet, deep kisses. Kenny laughed against him, devolving into _ giggles _ when Craig walked his hand up his spine. Craig drank the sounds in, more intoxicating than any substance he’d ever ingested. 

“Mmm, okay, but really, your gift,” Kenny murmured against his lips.

“Can wait,” Craig mumbled, kissing down Kenny’s jaw. Kenny hummed and shook his head, pulling back.

“Nope, it actually can’t,” he said. He sat back and climbed off of Craig, who huffed and sat up. He shuffled over to the box and sat down in front of it, confused but pleased when Kenny inched himself as close as he could get. The lid of the box was wrapped separately from the body of it, and Craig took the big red bow off the top of it and stuck it to Kenny’s bony knee, freezing when he heard a quiet shuffling from inside the box. He looked up at Kenny sharply, but he was simply staring at the box with his chin in his hands, looking guilty and innocent all at once. Craig gently lifted the lid from the box, peering inside of it.

“Holy shit,” he said softly, so as not to startle the box’s inhabitants. Two small, sleepy guinea pigs were nestled in the box, resting on a towel covered in alfalfa hay and droppings. One was white and dark brown, with little cream accents lining the white fur, and the other was soft grey and white. They looked up at him, terrified in the way only guinea pigs could be, _ wheeking _ softly at him. He reached into the box, his eyes wide, and he picked them up. They scrambled against him, trying to get away, but he cradled them gently together as he lifted them out of the box. He held them in his lap, scratching them gently under their chins with his index fingers. They relaxed as well as baby guinea pigs could in the hands of a stranger, and Craig gazed down at them in wonder. “They’re perfect,” he whispered in awe. “Oh my god, they’re so cute. Kenny, they’re _ so cute_,” he gushed, looking up at Kenny with wide, misty eyes. 

Kenny chuckled, reaching down to scratch the little grey and white one behind his ears. “Yeah, they’re pretty fuckin’ precious.” He leaned forward and rested his chin on Craig’s shoulder. “I know they’ll never replace Stripe, but they needed a good home; all their siblings were already adopted, and I couldn’t think of anyone better for them. You’re like, the Guinea Pig Grand Poobah.” Craig chuckled, cradling the cavies a little more securely as he leaned over and kissed Kenny on the mouth. 

“Name one,” Craig said against his mouth. Kenny grinned.

“You sure you want me to do that?”

“As long as it’s not Dickpit Crumpleballs.”

“It’s not Dickpit Crumpleballs.”

“Then go for it.”

Kenny reached down and pet at the little brown and white one. “This one is Sir Nibblefluff of Haybottom.”

“You’ve been thinking of this for a while, haven’t you?”

“Since the moment I picked them up this afternoon.”

Craig considered the name for a moment, then nodded. “It’s cute, I like it.” He handed Sir Nibblefluff to Kenny, who took him gently and immediately tucked him up under his chin in a little nuzzle. Craig nearly passed out from the overwhelming sight of his favourite person cuddling his favourite animal. “I’ll name this one Chips.”

“Chips and Nibbles,” Kenny agreed, holding Nibbles up. Crain leaned over and placed a little kiss on his head, then tilted his head up and kissed Kenny again. 

“Come on, let’s get them upstairs. The pen is still set up. I’ll put fresh bedding in,” he said, carefully getting to his knees and standing up. Kenny stood with him, handing Nibbles off to him. 

“I have some alfalfa hay in the truck; the lady at the shelter said baby pigs need that for like, the first year of their lives,” Kenny said. Craig nodded, glad that someone knowledgeable had been in charge of the guinea pigs at the shelter. Craig set the guinea pigs back in their box and carried it upstairs while Kenny fetched the hay from his truck. 

The bottom drawer of the dresser held three dozen soft fleece blankets, all freshly laundered. He laid them out in the pen in each section. He folded them neatly and tucked them into the corners of the pen, lifting the little ramps that separated the sections. He set the little kitchen area up with wood pellets in it, arranging the tip-proof food bowl and hay basket. He took the water bottle out and filled it in his bathroom sink, and when he came back in, Kenny was feeding each pig some fresh alfalfa hay. He clipped the water bottle in with a soft smile on his face and picked up one of the bags of hay. He tore it open and dumped it into a bin next to the dresser, then shoved a few fistfuls into the feeder. Beside the hay, there was a bag of high quality juvenile cavy food, which he dumped into the bowl. Rifling through the bottom drawer of the dresser, he pulled out a red tunnel, a bright yellow treat ball, and a hanging wooden chew toy which he suspended from the bar running across the left section of the pen. He stuffed a fresh fleece into the large, soft hide at the far end of the pen, and after giving it a final once over, deemed it habitable once more. 

He turned around and his heart once again nearly leapt out of his chest when he saw Kenny on the floor, holding the guinea pigs and cooing softly at them. Kenny looked up at him, grinning. 

“I’ve always preferred rats and dogs, but these guys are so goddamn cute. Are we co-parenting? Are we dads now?” Craig snorted, leaning down to take one of his ‘children’ from Kenny.

“Sure,” he said. Kenny stood with Chips, and together, they lowered the baby pigs into their new home. Compared to most of the shitty setups he’d seen, these two were in piggy paradise. He was going to have to install the second level tomorrow, and buy some new toys for them. Stripe had never been fond of ramps, and in his old age had stopped playing with toys, opting to eat and sleep his time away. He looked over at the little framed photo of Stripe that Kenny had given him, and right next to it was the tiny urn that held his beloved boy’s ashes. He touched the cool grey ceramic fondly, and wished Stripe were still here with him.

“You know, I think this is what our pets would want us to do,” Kenny said softly, wrapping his arms around him from behind. “Give other animals a shot at a good life.” Craig nodded, agreeing fully, but it still hurt. He still wished Stripe were still alive, though he already loved these new pigs just as much. 

They watched Nibbles and Chips explore their new home, sniffing about and chirping excitedly. When Chips hopped into the air and bolted across the cage, then hopped into the kitchen, Craig grinned. He explained popcorning to Kenny, who responded with an awed, “Oh my _ fuck_, that’s cute as shit.” 

“I know.” 

Kenny mouthed at Craig’s neck as they watched the guinea pigs, gently and chastely at first. It wasn’t long before his mouth moved up to his ear, his tongue darting out to lick at the sensitive skin behind his ear and nibbling at the lobe. Craig hummed and pressed back into Kenny, tilting his head to expose his neck further. Kenny took advantage, sucking a mark onto Craig’s neck until Craig was writhing against him. 

“Let’s not do this in front of the children,” Kenny murmured. Craig hummed a laugh, spinning around in Kenny’s embrace and wrapping his arms around his neck, kissing him and walking him backwards toward his bed. Kenny gripped his waist and fell backwards when his knees hit the bed, tugging Craig down on top of him. Craig straddled him, licking into his mouth and grinding down on him. Kenny groaned and the sound shot straight to Craig’s groin. He dipped his thumbs into the waistband of Craig’s pants and tugged him closer, and Craig pressed hard against him. His cock began to throb in his jeans and Kenny palmed at his ass roughly, squeezing and digging his fingertips in. 

Craig rolled his hips down into Kenny’s, and their growing erections pressed together through the harsh fabric of their jeans. Craig’s hands left Kenny’s shoulders to trail down his chest and toy with the zipper of his jeans. Kenny groaned into Craig’s mouth at the contact, his hips jerking upward and into his touch. Craig smirked into the kiss as he deftly unbuttoned Kenny’s jeans; he pulled the zipper down and pushed the fabric aside to slip his fingers in, meeting the bare skin of Kenny’s cock. Kenny hissed happily, wriggling his hips as he sat back, easing his jeans down his hips a bit. 

“I’d almost think you were expecting this,” Craig said, referring to his lack of underwear and giving the dick in his hand a squeeze. Kenny sighed, his head falling back.

“_Hoping_, sweetheart,” he gasped. Craig shuffled back, withdrawing his hand from Kenny so that he could pull his jeans down, working them down his body and letting them fall to the floor. 

It wasn’t his first, second, or even third time laying eyes on Kenny’s dick, but it took his breath away all the same. It was an uncut work of art, resting long and thick against his stomach, twitching as the cool air ghosted over it. He suddenly missed having it in his mouth, and he dropped to his knees to give it due worship. Kenny grinned down at him and spread his legs, shameless and eager and looking for all intents and purposes like a sensual, debauched god. Craig leaned in and gave the cock in front of him a long, slow lick with no hesitation. He flattened his tongue from base to tip, tilting it toward his head to lick obscenely at the tip. He sucked the head of Kenny’s cock into his mouth, grateful that he’d gotten his braces off last spring. He applied the barest amount of pressure as he scraped his teeth over the plush head, then dropped his head to take Kenny into his mouth entirely. Kenny groaned, tossing his head back as he fought to keep his hips from thrusting up into Craig’s mouth. Craig felt fingers thread into his hair to tug at his scalp and he groaned, arousal spiking through him with every twitch of Kenny’s fingers. He ground his hips against the side of his bed, looking for any kind of friction at all to ease the tension on his dick. 

He twisted his wrist as he slid up Kenny’s dick, twisted it back down as he took him back into his mouth. Thoroughly covered in saliva now, his fist moved smoothly over Kenny’s cock as he toyed with the sensitive head. Kenny was gasping, his hips rolling up in tiny thrusts, and when Craig noticed that he was curling his fingers harder in his scalp, he pulled back with a small kiss to the tip. He crawled up Kenny’s body and rolled them so that they were lying on their sides, kissing fiercely. 

“I want you inside me,” Craig gasped into his mouth. To Kenny’s credit and Craig’s relief, he didn’t drop his jaw and ask if Craig was sure, or make a big scene about it; he murmured a rough, wet ‘yeah’ against Craig’s lips and kept grinding against him. Neither of them had been virgins in quite a long time, and Craig was grateful that Kenny wasn’t making a big dramatic deal out of this.

But it was a big deal. He’d wanted to fuck Kenny from the moment he’d crawled on top of him in the truck. Probably would have, too, if Karen hadn’t called to tell him that the power had finally kicked it. In the few following weeks, they hadn’t had enough time to themselves, between Kenny’s snow plowing jobs and his own grandmother’s health problems. There had been a few hurried blow jobs in the parking lot at school or in an empty classroom, occasionally accompanied by a finger up the ass, but they simply hadn’t had the time to put out properly. They were filled with turbulent teenage hormones and not enough privacy, and Craig would punch his way to Hell before he let this opportunity pass him by. 

Besides, Kenny was… Kenny was special. Special in a way he’d hoped, once, that Tweek would have been. Special in a way Thomas never had been. Special in a way Craig had never in a million years thought the kid from the wrong side of the tracks would be. He wanted Kenny to know his body, wanted to know Kenny’s body in turn. 

He wanted to blanket himself in all Kenny’s stars.

Kenny sat them up and shucked his shirt, tossing it to the floor and working on Craig’s. He ran his fingers over Craig’s naturally tanned skin, smirking appreciatively as his nipples pebbled. Kenny brushed a thumb over one and Craig shivered at the contact, gazing up at Kenny with lidded, hazy green eyes. Using gentle, cool touches, Kenny urged his head back so that he could lick at the column of his throat. In typical teenage fashion, Kenny sucked a dark hickey onto Craig’s collarbone, his hands roaming and wandering as Craig whined under him, writhing and grinding up into him. Kenny kissed his handiwork and then trailed his lips down Craig’s chest, stopping to bite and soothe his nipples. As he lavished Craig’s chest with attention, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled the zipper down. He brushed his thumbs over Craig’s jutting hip bones and then hooked his fingers in the waistband of Craig’s pants and boxers, tugging them inside out as he worked them down miles of legs. 

Craig lifted his legs out of his jeans and laid back against his pillows, stretching his arms out over his head as he waited for Kenny to fish the lube and a condom from his nightstand. When Kenny settled back on the bed, he raked his eyes along Craig’s body at least three times. Craig could feel heat rising along his chest and face, but he was feeling bold, so he asked, “Like what you see, McCormick?”

Kenny looked like he was focusing hard, his blue eyes dark with lust, his chest heaving with every breath he took. Craig jolted when he felt one of Kenny’s hands smooth up his calf, skimming over the dark hair on his legs. Kenny leaned forward over him as he let his hand continue its journey, pointedly ignoring Craig’s aching cock and skirting up his side with enough pressure to not tickle. Kenny’s hand trailed along his armpit and up the length of his arm until he reached Craig’s hand, where he twined their fingers together. He hovered over Craig, kissing him tenderly before releasing his hand and cupping his face. His eyes were wide, and being this close to them, he could see little flecks of grey and gold in them. 

“You are _ fucking gorgeous_, Craig Tucker,” Kenny murmured reverently, his thumbs brushing across the smooth skin of Craig’s cheek. Craig’s eyes widened and his breath came in little heartfelt gasps. Kenny’s other hand dropped the lube and condom and he moved to straddle Craig; he immediately brought his free hand up and cradled the other side of Craig’s face, gazing at him so earnestly that Craig had to swallow to stop himself from blurting out a wild declaration of love. “You called me beautiful but you have no idea how fucking _ divine _ you look every minute of every day.”

Craig’s eyebrows furrowed with emotion, and if he’d have been capable of forming words at all, he’d have confessed his love immediately. Instead, he gasped out a desperate, needy moan and reached for Kenny, his mind gone fuzzy with affection, pulling him down and kissing him with as much passion as he could pour into it. Kenny babbled into the kiss, some of it frenzied groans, some of it attempts at speech. He stretched out over Craig, pressing their nude bodies together, and Craig moaned again, the heat between them lighting his blood on fire again and making his cock twitch. They kissed urgently, as if at any moment they’d be torn from each other’s arms forever. 

When Craig finally felt like he’d be able to survive it if he took his hands from where they were buried in Kenny’s hair, he did so, groping around on his bed to find the lube. Kenny pulled back, breathless and starry eyed, when he felt that Craig’s attention was no longer solely focused on his lips. Craig pressed the bottle of lube into Kenny’s chest, staring at him with trust and affection.

“Fuck me,” he whispered. “Please?” Kenny took the lube from him, popping the cap on it. He slid one hand down and tucked it into the crook of Craig’s knee, guiding his leg up onto his shoulder. Craig saw Kenny’s cock jolt in response to the way he was now spread, and his own bobbed when Kenny placed a soft kiss to the side of his knee. He watched intently as Kenny spread some lube on his fingers. 

“I’m not gonna make you beg for it,” Kenny told him reassuringly. “Not yet, anyway.” Craig grinned back at him. Little did Kenny know that was Craig’s specialty. He’d find out eventually. For now, though, he was glad they weren’t going to draw this out any longer than necessary. Games could be played later.

Kenny trailed his slick fingers down Craig’s rock solid, weeping cock. He hissed at the contact and thrust against the fingers, desperate for more substantial friction. Kenny denied him, though, his fingers trailing lower, over his balls briefly before dipping down to massage his perineum. Craig moaned and ground his hips down, cracking one eye open to see Kenny smirking devilishly, clearly tucking all of these reactions away for later use. One slick finger moved down to circle his entrance, and Craig hummed in anticipation.

“Two,” he said. Kenny grinned up at him and acquiesced, stroking his entrance with two fingers until Craig felt himself relax. Kenny’s fingers were long and slender, and they slid into him with relative ease. Craig moaned, rocking his hips down immediately. It had been a while since he’d been properly opened, anything beyond a single finger slicked with saliva in their hurried trysts in the darkened rooms of their high school, but he was well used to the intrusion and knew how to relax against his body’s instinct to repel. 

“Oh fuck, babe,” Kenny murmured as he pressed his fingers in further. “You’re taking it like a fucking champ.” Craig huffed a laugh, high and breathy. He rolled his hips, urging Kenny into motion. “God, I wish you could see what you looked like from here.”

“So we’ll invest in some mirrors,” Craig suggested breathlessly. 

“That’s fucking kinky,” Kenny purred. He worked his fingers in deeper, then pulled them back out and thrust them in again with more force. Craig hummed happily, oscillating his hips down as Kenny fucked his fingers in and out of him. He did want to see what Kenny’s beautiful, filthy hands looked like pistoning in and out of him; maybe he’d have Kenny record it one day. For now, though, simply feeling it was more than enough. As Kenny’s fingers worked back in, spreading as they pulled out again, it was enough. Oh, god, it was fucking perfect and Craig felt like he was melting into the bed. 

“Harder,” Craig groaned, his voice cracking. Kenny paused to dribble more lube onto his fingers and pressed three in this time. Craig arched his back, adoring the stretch. It didn’t hurt and it was barely even uncomfortable, but the heat of the stretch was intoxicating. Craig was about to tell him to hurry it the fuck up and fingerbang him into next Tuesday when Kenny slowly pressed his fingers in as deep as they could get and brushed against his prostate. Craig shouted, his hands grasping at the blankets beneath him. His hips thrust upward instinctively, his cock hard and leaking profusely against his stomach. Mercilessly, and with deliberate pressure, Kenny pressed his fingers against his prostate again and Craig saw stars behind his eyelids as he gasped for air. Kenny never did get around to the ‘harder’ part that Craig had recalled wanting. Instead, he teased Craig’s prostate for an unknowable amount of time, dragging ragged cries and keening whimpers out of him with each assault. When Kenny paused to give him a chance to breathe, Craig managed to crack his eyes open to stare at his ceiling.

“Fuck me, Kenny,” he moaned. He took some satisfaction in feeling Kenny’s fingers twitch at his words. “I need you.” Kenny withdrew his fingers and leaned down to wipe them on his own discarded shirt. He leaned down to kiss Craig as he tore the wrapper on the condom, and then he sat back on his knees to roll the rubber over his length. He popped the cap off the lube to spread it over his dick, pressing his fingers back into Craig to smear more lube inside of him. Craig groaned, his hips twitching, and he canted his hips downward. “Come _ on_,” he whined, desperate. 

Grinning, Kenny shuffled closer, leaning down to hover over Craig, causing his leg to fold inward. Craig’s knee was nearly touching his chest, and he loved the wild stretch of it. He felt Kenny settle the tip of his cock against his entrance, and he wrapped his arms around Kenny’s neck. His blue eyes were wide and nebulous as he pressed in slowly; Craig tilted his hips up and Kenny slid in a little further. He threw his head back and keened lowly, his hands gripping at Kenny’s back. 

“Christ,” Kenny whispered, his voice ragged and a little frazzled. He pushed forward, moving slowly until his hips were slotted against Craig’s and he was fully seated. Craig was breathing heavily, staring straight up into Kenny’s eyes with great effort. His body was ablaze, how was he not a pile of smouldering ashes right now? Fire was consuming him and he’d happily fling himself into it if it meant keeping Kenny right here for the next hundred years. Between the wild, primitive thoughts of _ forever _ that he knew would only break his heart one day and the waves of untamed pleasure rolling over him, it was all Craig could do to hook his free leg behind Kenny’s thigh and draw him closer.

They moaned in unison, and Kenny dropped his weight down onto his elbows after his arms began to shake. Craig shifted his hips, dug his heel into the back of Kenny’s thigh. Kenny lowered his head to Craig’s shoulder and licked at the skin there, warm but not sweaty. He pulled his hips back, moving slowly until just the plush head of his cock was still sheathed within, and then pushed back in. Craig gasped and shuddered around him, clawing at Kenny’s back. 

“Better than Heaven,” Kenny murmured, thrusting gently into Craig’s welcoming heat. “Hot and tight, you’re so fucking good.” Craig whimpered; Kenny’s gentle thrusts were shallow, and while they felt amazing, he’d honestly been waiting too long for this. Since that first week of September, when he’d smoked with him in the woods after school. He’d thought of stress relief, of how he’d be able to fuck his heartbreak away with another pretty blond boy. Now, three and a half months after that first shared joint, he’d gotten so much more than that first fleeting thought. There were a hundred little moments they’d shared together since then that contributed to how desperately he’d been wanting this. Parties on the weekends, football games with corn dogs he was able to eat without seeing any troublesome exes, taking their little sisters to the mall and sneaking off to buy spray paint that they’d later use on bridges and tunnels, nights where Kenny had come back to his house not an hour after leaving with new bruises that he didn’t talk about, stolen kisses in bathrooms between classes. It had all been too much for Craig to handle, and now it culminated in Kenny’s dick deep in his ass and they’d have all the time in the world for soft, romantic lovemaking. Later. 

“Fuck me,” he pleaded again. He dug the fingers of one hand into Kenny’s hair. “I need -” he broke off as Kenny’s hips stilled within him, a groan working its way from his throat. His body was throbbing, he could feel the ache in his fingertips and his eyelids and his teeth, feeling like he was going to break. Kenny picked his head up to stare into Craig’s eyes, his blond hair falling forward. He was breathing heavily, looking like he was just barely able to control himself, and that weighty stare was driving Craig wild.

“You wanna just save slow and gentle for later?” Kenny asked, his voice rough and breathy. “Because I don’t know about you, but you’re so fucking hot that if I stayed slow my dick might actually fall off,” he admitted. 

“Yeah, fuck gentle,” Craig whispered, leaning up to claim Kenny’s lip in a dirty kiss. Craig had a brief, fleeting thought that Kenny’s honesty and openness was a raging turn on, but every coherent thought was chased from his head when Kenny sat up, pulled out, and snapped his hips forward roughly. 

Craig’s back arched sharply and he shouted, grappling with the sheets for something to hold onto as Kenny readjusted his grip and began to fuck into him properly. There was power in his thrusts that belied his thin frame, and when Craig managed to twist his head up to look at Kenny, he could see the outline of sharp, defined abdominals that were hidden behind malnutrition. His wavy blond hair was slowly starting to stick to his forehead as he worked up a sweat, and his big hands were wrapped around Craig’s waist with enough pressure to leave bruises, and Craig fucking loved it. Hard and fast was how he’d always preferred it, and Kenny delivered. He brought one hand around to the leg Craig had wrapped around his thigh and lifted it up onto his shoulder. Both of Craig’s legs were on Kenny’s shoulders now and he leaned forward, bending Craig almost in half.

Kenny fucked into him again, rougher with the new angle, and his cock brushed against Craig’s prostate with every other thrust. Every time that bundle of nerves within him was touched, or pounded into, or even brushed against, Craig moaned, loud and shameless in his empty house. He did his best to lift his hips into every thrust, his abdomen straining, but their position left him with very little room to maneuver. Kenny set a harsh pace, his hips slapping loudly against Craig’s ass with every thrust, sending his bed squeaking and his headboard thumping against the wall. He panted into Craig’s ear, whispering filth to him as he drilled into him over and over. Craig whined when Kenny’s stomach brushed against his cock, not quite enough to offer any sort of relief. He reached between their sweaty bodies and grasped his cock, tugging on it in time to Kenny’s thrusts. 

Kenny batted his hand away, reaching to take Craig in his hand himself. His fist was still slightly sticky with lube, and Craig cried out as Kenny tightened his fist around the head of his cock. “You’re not in charge of your own orgasm - not tonight,” he whispered roughly. Craig panted against him, grappling for purchase on Kenny's sweat slick back. Kenny adjusted his grip on Craig's cock and pumped him in a perfect counter to his thrusts - every time he withdrew, Kenny's fist was around the head of his cock, swirling there before sliding down his shaft when he snapped back in. Craig could feel the heat building low in his belly, rivers of it sneaking out to every limb, to his toes and his head and his chest. It wound around his lungs and stole the breath from him before it could provide any sort of relief to his gasping body. 

"Let me see that pretty face of yours when you come around my cock, Craig," Kenny murmured, an obscene utterance in his ear. Craig couldn't recall a time when he'd actively wished for dirty talk in bed, mostly because if Thomas was talking, he was shouting mood killing vulgarities, but now he found his blood igniting with the things Kenny said to him in his affection laden tones. 

Kenny snapped his hips into him, drilling into his prostate relentlessly, and Craig felt those rivers of heat explode within him as if they'd been made of jet fuel. He screamed and his vision blurred as he curled in on himself, coming harder than he ever had in his life. His face bumped into Kenny's shoulder and he immediately latched on, drooling all over pale, freckled skin as his cock pulsed, shooting ribbons of white, hot seed across Kenny's knuckles and their chests. His stomach clenched around his orgasm and he felt his hole squeezing Kenny's cock. 

Kenny continued to thrust into him as Craig felt his body go boneless, and he leaned up to nip and lick at Kenny’s neck. He wanted to return the favour to Kenny and whisper foul things into his ear, but embarrassment stopped him; he simply didn’t have Kenny’s confidence. As Kenny thrust into him, still driving into his prostate and stimulating his raw nerves, he whined softly into his ear, dragging his nails down his back. 

“Shit,” Kenny swore, his hips losing their rhythm. “Shit_ shitshit _ -” He cut himself off with a gasp, and pressed deep into Craig, emptying himself into the condom. Kenny gasped and moaned into Craig’s ear, his hips thrusting shallowly as he rode out his orgasm. Craig held him, no longer digging into his flesh, but running his fingertips gently through the sheen of sweat on his back. 

When Kenny’s hips finally stopped thrusting into him, he collapsed on top of Craig, smearing Craig’s come between them. Craig’s legs fell from his shoulders and he wrapped his limbs around him. Kenny picked his head up and kissed Craig’s chin, bringing a hand up to cup the side of his face. A smile spread across his face, and Craig was struck breathless again. It was a soft, wide smile that made his stomach flip. Craig slipped his fingers beneath Kenny’s chin and tilted his face up, bringing their lips together.

“Who knew Craig Tucker was such a romantic?” Kenny murmured, his voice full of raw affection. 

“_You _ know, now,” Craig answered, happy for the first time in a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may take a brief break from posting, because I had an idea for a Crenny Halloween fic that I really want to write, and to write another chapter or two in this one before I post any more. I want to have more of this written before I post so that I actually finish the damn thing. I'm still really, really enjoying writing this and I want to finish it for you guys! 
> 
> This was my longest chapter to date and I debated breaking it into two parts, but eh, not necessary. Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Guinea pigs do best in pairs or more! Most guinea pig cages in stores aren't big enough for one adult, let alone two! Guinea pig babies need alfalfa hay instead of timothy hay! Guinea pigs are messy and need lots of TLC! This has been your guinea pig PSA! Also, I used to work at PetSmart and definitely named a guinea pig Sir Nibblefluff of Haybottom, and I wanted him so badly but I couldn't bring him home T_T So he lives on in South Part smut fanfic.


	8. The Girls are Scary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Time is like a dream  
And now, for a time, you are mine  
Let's hold fast to the dream  
That tastes and sparkles like wine"  
_\- Siouxsie Sioux & Morrissey, Interlude___

Craig woke up around nine thirty in the morning on Christmas day to the sound of two baby guinea pigs chewing on a piece of wood. Before he even opened his eyes, he smiled about it, because his room had been too quiet since Stripe’s passing. He exhaled slowly, his eyes still shut, and let his senses slowly wake him up. He could feel Kenny wrapped around him, tucked under his chin. He smelled mint from his shampoo wafting around him, blond hair a mess, drooling softly on his collarbone. Their legs were tangled together beneath a thick blue comforter and Craig could feel the bottle of lube resting against his calf, hopefully capped tightly. 

He opened his eyes, grateful for the blackout curtains in his room that obscured the harsh winter sun. His Jupiter lamp had been left on its dimmest setting and slowly rotated away on his desk, casting a soft glow of yellow as it spun. On the floor in the middle of his room were two used, tied off condoms. Craig shifted his hips and relished in the dull ache, feeling warm and well used in the best way. The second time they fucked had started in the kitchen, while they were cleaning up dinner. Kenny had made good on his earlier desires and set Craig up on the counter, tugged his sweatpants down, and proceeded to suck his dick until Craig had nearly cried. They finished what they started back upstairs, first against the doorframe and then back on Craig’s bed. It had been less frantic than round one, but no less fiery. 

He tilted his head down and kissed the top of Kenny’s head, unable to wipe the grin from his face even if he’d been paid to. He brought the hand that wasn’t trapped beneath Kenny’s body to wrap around his shoulders, shifting his leg to hike up on Kenny’s hip. When he felt a warm tongue drag across his chest, he knew Kenny was awake.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, his voice rough with sleep. Kenny stretched in his arms, extending his foot out to tangle with Craig’s. 

“You didn’t,” Kenny answered. He stretched up to press a closed mouthed kiss to Craig’s lips. “Suffer my morning breath.” Craig wrinkled his nose, but kissed back anyway.

“Stinks,” he mumbled. Kenny pulled back and laughed.

“That’s your dick, baby,” he said smugly. Craig rolled his eyes, letting his head flop back onto his pillow. 

Kenny settled back down onto his chest, drawing a finger along his stomach, tracing where the come had been just hours before. Craig sighed contentedly, and gave a strangled moan when Kenny’s hand wrapped loosely around his morning erection. “I don’t know if you’re a morning person or not…” Which was a lie, Kenny knew damn well that Craig was nonfunctioning before eleven AM on days he didn’t have to be. “But I think I could convince you to be.” Craig hummed, rocking his hips up into Kenny’s warm palm. 

He was very, very grateful for teenage hormones. 

Kenny slipped three fingers into him, still lubed up and loose from their rounds last night. Craig groaned loudly, shamelessly spreading his legs and curling one up, giving Kenny as much access as he could. Kenny grabbed the lube and poured more right where his fingers sunk into Craig’s body. They squelched in a vulgar symphony as they pumped in and out of him, and Craig’s morning erection became a proper one, resting heavy and thick against his stomach. 

“Mmm, I’m hungry, hurry up,” Craig whined. 

“Hungry for this dick,” Kenny muttered.

“Kenny…”

“Yes, darling?”

“Fuck me, and then feed me.”

Kenny paused his movements to bury his face in Craig’s stomach and laugh silently, his shoulders shaking. Craig huffed and flexed his dick purposefully, slapping the top of Kenny’s head with it. Kenny laughed even harder and Craig cracked a smile in turn. When Kenny’s laughter subsided, he twitched his fingers within Craig again, blatantly ignoring his prostate. Then he pulled out and moved away from Craig entirely, causing the latter to shoot up, eyes wide.

“Where are you going?”

“Condom, dude,” Kenny answered, pointing at the dresser, because they’d been too stupid last night to move the box to the nightstand. Craig bit his lip.

“I’m clean,” he blurted. “I got, uh, tested after Thomas left me.” He couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice, much as he hated to admit that it was still there. Kenny blinked down at him, blue eyes wide and bright, blond hair wild and messy and perfect. Then he grinned, leaning down to kiss his way up Craig’s body, nipping and licking at the tanned flesh along the way.

“I’m clean too,” he said emphatically, nuzzling against Craig’s sternum. Craig didn’t even hesitate in believing him, just accepted his word as gospel. He knew he should be surprised at his trust in him, but he’d analyze it later. Right now, with the way Kenny was prowling up his body, staring at him through pale lashes, his hormone fueled brain just kind of kept screaming ‘fuck him’ over and over again. Following his instincts, Craig surged up, grabbed Kenny by the shoulders, and flipped them over. Kenny rolled with it as smoothly as anyone could, grinning up at Craig with his hands on his waist and his cock pressed between his asscheeks. Kenny pressed his thumbs into Craig’s hip bones, brushing over the marks he’d left last night. “Now ride me ‘til you go cross eyed, then I’ll make us the best cinnamon roll waffles you’ll ever eat in your life.” 

Craig winked at him, his eyes heavy and his mouth set in a sleepy smirk as he reached behind him and took Kenny’s cock in one hand and pulled his ass with the other. One of Kenny’s hands slid around and tugged on his other cheek, and Craig pressed Kenny’s cock to his entrance. He slid down easily, his muscles still loose from last night’s activities. There was enough lube around his entrance and spread within that Kenny slipped inside easily. With no condom, Craig could feel how hot Kenny’s cock was as he rolled his hips to work him all the way in. Kenny’s grip on his hips was borderline painful and Craig would have snarled down at him if he’d tried to remove them. 

“Holy _ fucking christ_, babe,” Kenny grit out, looking devastated already. Craig rose and dropped himself back onto him once, a sharp movement that brought a ragged moan from Kenny’s throat. “You - _ fuck_.”

“That’s the idea,” Craig chuckled, winded. He rocked his hips in a figure eight, sighing when he felt Kenny’s cock brush against his prostate. “Say my name.”

“Craig,” Kenny moaned, flexing his fingers. Planting his hands on Kenny’s chest, Craig rose up on his knees and then slammed back home. He let his head loll off to the side, a soft moan falling from his lips as Kenny’s cock immediately brushed against his prostate, sending sparks skittering up his spine and bursting in white fireworks behind his eyelids. 

Craig rode him hard, a thin sheen of sweat beading up on his tanned skin, his breath coming in ragged gasps until Kenny wrapped his palm around his cock, letting Craig’s momentum jerk him off. Craig shouted, his hips faltering in their rhythm, his nails digging little pits into Kenny’s chest. When he came, Kenny held his dick out so that his come painted his chin and chest. Craig rode out his orgasm watching Kenny’s tongue dart out to lick at Craig’s come on his chin, and if Craig hadn’t just come, that sight alone would have been enough to undo him. 

Kenny guided him so that he was kneeling over his torso, weak legs hovering so that Kenny could fuck up into him viciously. Craig keened, his eyes rolling back as Kenny battered his abused prostate. Kenny moaned when he finally came, long and low and so sensual that Craig just wanted to pet his face and kiss him for the rest of the day. He settled on top of Kenny as he lay there twitching, pressing his still-hard cock deeper into him once again. They both hissed at the stimulation and Kenny rolled them over onto their sides, slipping out in the process. Craig sighed in contentment, reaching at first for his sheet to wipe at Kenny’s chin and chest. He paused, maintaining eye contact with Kenny as he leaned close, mouth open, and licked at the warm come there, closing his lips over the skin to kiss reverently. All the while he felt Kenny’s blue gaze on him, burning a hole into the top of his head with the intensity of it. 

“You are unfairly hot,” Kenny muttered, wrapping his arms around Craig when he finished and tucked himself close again. Craig snorted.

“What’s unfair about it?” 

“The fact that it took this long to happen.”

“Sorry, I was too busy dating all the wrong types.”

“And what about me?” Kenny’s voice was soft again, almost hesitant. Craig propped himself up on his elbows, one arm resting near Kenny’s head. He worked his fingers into Kenny’s hair, trashed and tangled from their fucking as it was. He toyed with the blond locks, staring down at him thoughtfully. He bit his lip, terrified of fucking this up. 

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He hated the way Kenny’s face fell, but he deserved to know things truthfully. The thought of deceiving him made Craig sick. “I thought I knew what was right and I’ve been wrong twice. I’m seventeen.” He shook his head. “But I think you’re different. Not like anyone else I’ve dated.” He didn’t want to mention the names of his ex boyfriends in such a context while he still had Kenny’s seed leaking from him. Something about it struck him as being in poor taste. He paused, trying to think of the right words to convey what he was feeling without making Kenny feel like he was lacking, because that couldn’t be farther from the truth. It was apparently long enough, because Kenny hummed thoughtfully.

“Then… at this moment, right here in your room. What about right now?” he asked, a playful lilt creeping back into his tone. Craig couldn’t repress his smile. 

“Right now, you’re perfect,” he said, sincere. Kenny nodded, running one broad hand down Craig’s spine.

“Then I’ve got work to do.” Craig furrowed his brow a little, confused. “Clearly no one else put in any effort to keep you after they had you.” Kenny’s eyes were closed, and he tucked one hand behind his head as he relaxed again. “Bet they thought you didn’t have much depth past the one word answers and animals close up with a wide angle lens.” Craig blinked down at him, his eyes wide and his breathing having stopped temporarily. “I think I know a little better than that.” He cracked one blue eye open and gazed down at Craig. “You have layers. Like an onion.” 

Craig blinked slowly, faux-appalled that Kenny had used their post coital conversation to call him an _ ogre_, and he dragged a pillow over and shoved it into Kenny’s face. Deep down he thought it was the most hilarious thing he’d heard all month, but he’d cram a shovel down his throat before he admitted that. He pressed the pillow over Kenny’s face and then swiftly wriggled out of his grasp and stood, moving over to stand by his door, naked as the day he was born, listening to Kenny laugh from below the pillow. He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame, smirking and shaking his head as Kenny tossed the pillow to the other side of the bed. Kenny looked over to him and the look he received was nearly enough to draw him back to bed. Kenny’s eyes raked over his body, taking his time dragging over his long torso and longer legs, focusing on his cock hanging spent and relaxed against his leg. He felt consumed under that hungry blue gaze, felt sexy and powerful and desired. He raised one eyebrow.

“I believe you mentioned waffles.”

Kenny laughed again and Craig’s heart clenched. It seized and left him breathless when Kenny swung his long legs over the side of his bed and stood, stretching languidly. His stomach flipped, low and harsh, when he tousled his blond hair and crossed Craig’s room to settle a broad hand across his hip and kiss his fucking cheek. Craig leaned into the touch instinctively and suddenly knew why his parents and those of his friends looked so happy when their spouse planted a kiss on their cheeks. Before half a second ago, he'd thought it was Kiss Lite, something you did when you were obligated to or only in a hurry. Now he wanted to hold Kenny's lips against the side of his face and keep them there forever. He was pretty sure his eyes had hearts in them as he watched Kenny walk past him and make his way down the stairs. 

Craig followed him, pulling out the battered old waffle iron while Kenny banged a can of cinnamon rolls on the counter to pop it open. He smashed them all together and then flattened them out into waffle sized cakes, and then did the same with a second can. He hummed while he worked, his eyes soft. Craig watched him, leaning against the refrigerator, not feeling bad in the slightest that his bare ass was touching the handle. He'd disinfect later. Or not. 

Kenny moved toward him, kissing him lazily while the waffle iron heated up. Warm hands cupped his face, fingertips scratching lightly into his hair and thumbs brushing against his cheekbones. Craig placed his hands on Kenny's waist and tugged him close, sighing softly at the feel of their flaccid cocks brushing against one another. They wouldn't be flaccid for long if Kenny kept moving his tongue the way he was, but he pulled away to place the flattened cinnamon rolls into the waffle iron. Craig set the plates beside Kenny and placed cutlery on the table, leaning back against the fridge to watch Kenny hum Christmas carols under his breath and smear frosting on the cinnamon roll waffles. 

When they sat down to eat, Craig had to admit that they _ were _ pretty incredible. He licked the frosting from his lips and sent Kenny a heated look when the blond dragged his finger through the frosting and licked it from his finger suggestively. They were halfway done eating when Kenny stood, padding over to the fridge to pull out some orange juice. He poured them two glasses and set one down in front of Craig.

Craig wound an arm around Kenny’s waist and pulled him close, pressing a kiss to Kenny’s thin stomach. He looked up at Kenny, who was smiling down at him.

“This is fuckin’ domestic,” he mumbled. Kenny snorted.

“Yeah, but it’s also really goddamn sweet. Cinnamon roll waffles on Christmas morning, dude. Naked breakfast time. This is the American dream,” he answered. He bent at the waist, placing a chaste kiss on Craig’s lips. “Besides, I have a feeling that you’re actually a hopeless romantic deep down in your shriveled little heart.” Craig smirked.

“Who’s the one pouring me orange juice and making me breakfast? I think we both know who the sappiest one is here,” he countered. Kenny grinned, wide and brighter than the morning sun streaming through the windows. He rocked forward again to bring their lips together in a warm, sunny kiss. 

“You got me,” Kenny mumbled against his lips. Craig’s heart clenched in his chest, wondering if Kenny had intended the double meaning behind his words. He tilted his head up to kiss him properly, one hand coming up to rest on the wrist of the hand that cradled his face. 

He wanted things to stay like this. He didn’t want to move forward, didn’t want to press on the gas pedal at all. He knew what happened when he involved himself too much in a relationship - he got too needy, too dependent on his partner. What he and Tweek had was puppy love, he knew that after… after Thomas. He’d been in love with Thomas, had rotated around him like a moon in the gravitational pull of a planet. He knew he was in love with Kenny. It wasn’t anything he was able to deny to himself at this point, and he’d accepted it that night in November, when they burned down Cartman’s truck for one sharp comment about his guinea pig. How could you commit arson like that and not fall in love with the boy with the lighter? It hadn’t even been a month since then and he already craved Kenny when he wasn’t around. He already wanted to be near him at all times, wanted to be touching him every moment they were together. But, sooner than he wanted, would come the fights, the arguments, the underhanded comments and digs that would cut into him like blades. That was just the nature of relationships, and he’d accepted that, but he wished he could just keep them here instead. 

So he kissed Kenny back with everything that he felt but couldn’t voice because he didn’t want to hasten the inevitable. Then he reigned himself in, because Kenny was perceptive, and showing his hand this early would only wreck him in the worst ways. He sighed into the kiss and Kenny must have taken it as contentment, because his lips split into a smile again. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Craig’s heart fell into his stomach and he squawked, pulling back from the kiss so violently that he fell off the side of his chair, arms flailing. Kenny, to his credit, brought his orange juice glass down to cover his junk and waved a little at _ his goddamn cousin_, who was standing in the living room, snow on her boots and on her hat, arms crossed and looking about as unamused as a person could get. 

"Merry Christmas, Red!" Kenny chimed, cheerful like he hadn't just been caught with his dick out in the most literal sense. 

"Are you _ fucking _ kidding me?" she repeated. 

"No, it's definitely Christmas!" he answered brightly. From his position on the floor, all but his legs hidden from Red by the wall, Craig groaned, covering his face with his hands. 

"Well what a gift," she deadpanned. "I've always wanted to see my cousin's dick." Craig slowly crawled to his feet, praying that his face wasn't blood red as he stuck his head around the corner of the wall. 

"What the fuck are you doing here, Red?" he demanded. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Tricia wanted to see you. She said you were probably done fucking Kenny by now. I regret to say I didn't believe her. I stand, unfortunately, corrected," she said. 

"Well, we're done," Kenny supplied helpfully. Craig punched him in the arm, which jostled the glass of orange juice and spilled some of it. Kenny shot him a grin, and was just opening his mouth when Red cut him off. 

"I swear to god, McCormick, if you say one word pertaining to your dick, I will cut it off," she snapped. Kenny pouted. "Now will you two please go put some clothes on so Tricia can come in without having her retinas burned from her head? I'd like to spare her my fate." She turned around and faced the front door, tapping her foot impatiently. 

Craig took the glass of orange juice from Kenny's hand and set it down, then grabbed his arm and dragged him upstairs. Once he shut the door to his room, Kenny burst into laughter, doubling over, hands on his knees. Craig was decidedly less amused, flopping down on his bed and burying his face in his pillow. It wasn't long before he felt a weight pressing on his back as Kenny straddled him. He smoothed his hands up Craig's back.

"It could be worse. It could have been your mom. I don't think she would have liked me much if she saw me naked in her kitchen, kissing her son," he reassured. Craig tilted his head to the side.

"My cousin saw my dick, Kenny. I can never look her in the eye again,” he groaned. He felt a sympathetic pat on his shoulder. 

“You were sitting down, facing away from her. She probably only caught a flash of it as you very gracefully flung yourself out of the chair. She definitely caught mine full frontal,” Kenny mused. 

“Kenny, most people have seen your dick,” Craig argued. “You have a reputation for losing your clothes at parties.”

“And streaking, don’t forget that,” Kenny supplied unhelpfully. “You stay here and stew in your mortification. I’ll go talk to her. Make sure she knows I only have honest, pure intentions with her favourite cousin.” The weight vanished from his back, and Craig rolled over.

“That’s bullshit all around,” he groused. “Besides, Tricia is definitely her favourite.” Kenny pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, looking dangerously attractive in them, and winked down at Craig before leaving the room, shutting the door behind him gently. 

With his ears straining, he heard Kenny greet Tricia, listened to the clink of plates, and then silence. He heard the front door open and he peered out his window to see Kenny walking out to Red’s car. She was in the driver’s seat, staring pointedly up at Kenny as he rubbed the back of his neck, bending down to talk to her. He watched her jab her finger at his chest, her brow furrowed and her lips curled back in a little snarl. Red was vicious when necessary; all the girls were, actually. Wendy, Bebe, and Red were the ringleaders, though, and Craig was pretty sure their information network extended to the military at the very least. Red had been in almost as many fistfights as Craig had, and come out victorious nearly every time. She wasn’t a delinquent, she just had very strong beliefs and refused to let anyone step on them around her. So, as he watched her ream Kenny out, he was a little concerned.

He slid from his bed, leaving his lover to his own fate as his cousin’s hands, digging around in a drawer for a clean pair of sweats and a shirt. He shoved his phone into his pocket and made his way downstairs, where Tricia was eating the leftover cinnamon roll waffles, a disgusting smear of butter, syrup, and frosting on them. She looked up at him as he walked into the kitchen, flopping back down into a chair and flipping her off. She returned the favour.

“Kenny said he gave you guinea pigs,” she said blandly.

“Yeah.”

“Said he named one Dickpit Crumpleballs.”

“No.”

“You should have let him name one Dickpit Crumpleballs.”

“Fuck off.”

Tricia shrugged, turning her attention back to her waffles. “Red said you guys were naked when she came in.” Craig closed his eyes and breathed heavily through his nose. “Are you dating him or just fucking?”

“Go away, Trish,” he grumbled, reaching for his abandoned orange juice.

“Karen wants to know,” she persisted.

“Tell Karen to mind her business too.”

“It’s my business when I can’t even walk into my own house without someone fielding it for rogue dicks,” she snapped with no real venom.

“Why do you care?” he asked, irritation growing as he leveled her with a glare. She jabbed her fork in his direction.

“Because I want you to be happy, you asshole,” she said, her voice firm and her brow furrowed in irritation that mirrored Craig’s. “You’ve been moping-”

“For fuck’s sake, I’m _ not _-”

“-and I’m tired of seeing your sad sack face schlepping all over town. Plus, I like Kenny. He’s nice to me.” She stood then, taking her empty plate to the dishwasher. Craig sat in silence for a moment; affectionate engagements with his little sister were few and far between, simply because of their age difference. She was in eighth grade and they had little in common. He was also pretty sure that she was a trainee under Red, therefore also with Wendy and Bebe. He chose an easier route.

“Schlepping?” he asked, one dark brow quirked. Tricia shrugged. 

“Ike uses it a lot, I guess it’s a Jewish thing,” she said, moving to pour herself some orange juice. 

“Well, thanks, shitstain,” Craig eventually said quietly. “Your present is under the tree.”

“I’ll wait till mom and dad get home,” she said. “Go bring your guinea pigs down, I wanna see them and I am _ not _ going into your room after you were alone with him all night.” 

“Probably a good idea,” he said, a smirk on his face as he left the kitchen. There were still two used condoms on the floor, after all. When he left the kitchen, he saw Kenny shutting the front door behind him, shivering. He stepped out of his boots and looked up, teeth chattering. They locked eyes, and when Craig saw the mischievous grin begin to bleed across Kenny’s face, he darted up the stairs, long legs taking them three at a time. Kenny was right behind him, and Craig darted into his room, yanking the comforter off his bed. He didn’t make it quite in time, for Kenny barreled into him and wrapped his arms around him, pressing his cold body against him, leeching up his body heat. Craig hissed, convulsing and trying to escape when Kenny tucked his frigid fingers beneath the waistband of Craig’s sweatpants and cupped his ass. Kenny sighed, melting into him.

Craig shivered a little, but managed to maneuver the blanket around them. “How badly did Red ream you out for seeing your dick?” he murmured into Kenny’s neck. He felt more than heard Kenny chuckle against him. 

“It wasn’t even about that, really,” he mumbled. “She may have threatened to ‘make me disappear’ if I hurt you.” 

Craig pulled back, blinking down at Kenny in surprise. He and Red had never been particularly close; more now that they were older, but it’s not like they hung out frequently. As far as he knew, she didn’t know any particular details about his previous relationships. He hadn’t gone to her to get blackout drunk when Thomas had left him, he didn’t sit on the swingset in her backyard with her to pour his heart out. That she was threatening Kenny on his behalf was a mixture of confusing and touching. He and Kenny hadn’t even managed to figure out what they were yet, though the rumour mill at school was abuzz ever since they had started hanging out more when the school year started. 

“She heavily implied government connections,” Kenny added. “Why are the girls so fucking terrifying?” Craig chuckled.

“I’ve never been more glad that I’ve never slept with any of them,” he said. His sexuality had been quite literally the talk of the entire town at one point in his life. It had driven him insane at the time, but now he was silently grateful for the whole debacle. The girls had quietly crossed him off of one list and added him to another. He was a friend to them, whether they were his friends or not. Certain people who had bothered him into regular fights suddenly avoided him like the plague. A few of the meaner adults in town now averted their eyes when he passed them in the mall. They greeted him even when he was standing and speaking with Stan, who had been on their shitlist for quite a while after he’d broken things off with Wendy for good. Clyde had confided that Bebe told him point blank that she trusted Craig more than she trusted him. That had been a miserable, tear-filled night of consoling his friend and reassuring him that he wasn’t actually trying to take Bebe from him. “It’s like they’re not even human.”

Kenny hummed, curling back into him. He was finally warmed up, and Craig leaned into his touch. He wanted to stay here, wrapped in a blanket and one another in his room, for the rest of the day. In actuality, he wanted to stay there forever, but the rational part of his brain knew that it was too soon and they were too young to think of anything as fanciful as forever. Rationality didn’t stop him from fantasies though, so when Kenny pressed his face into his neck, Craig let his mind wander into the years to come. 

“It’s good Red told me not to hurt you. Right before she showed up I was contemplating the pros and cons of cannibalism," Kenny mused, nibbling at his neck. Craig huffed a laugh and then pulled back a little. 

“Come on, Doctor Lecter. Tricia wants to see the guinea pigs and she refuses to come in here for it,” he said. 

“Smart. It smells like sex and I think you’re standing on a condom.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny chapter to hold you all over. I'm waiting to post the next one simply because it's a New Years chapter, and that approacheth. Thanks for sticking around, fam!


	9. Auld Lang Syne

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "For auld lang syne, my jo,  
for auld lang syne,  
we'll tak' a cup o' kindness yet,  
for auld lang syne."  
_Robert Burns, Auld Lang Syne_

School didn’t restart between Christmas and New Year, which was just fine by Craig. His father came home three days after Christmas, bringing news that his grandmother was able to get around on her own again. They had a late exchange of Christmas gifts, but they were together; despite Craig’s outward disinterest in everything, he genuinely cared about his family, even though he flipped them off in lieu of thanking them for his gifts. 

Christmas night delivered a huge snowstorm that had Kenny working from eleven at night until one in the afternoon the next day. At first, Craig had volunteered to go with him, but Kenny insisted that he stay home with his sister. The power could kick out easily in a snowstorm like this, he argued. Craig knew it was the truth - the town’s power lines were buried, but the ones outside of town weren’t. Kenny texted him every hour, and Craig woke up each time, his volume up and the phone sitting right next to the pillow. 

At one thirty in the afternoon, Kenny called him, asking if he wanted any food and if he could come back over. As if Craig would have ever said no. Kenny brought them and Tricia City Wok, and then dragged Craig upstairs to sleep. While Kenny shucked his clothes, he tossed the envelope with cash at Craig; it was thin, but that was because it held twenty one hundred dollar bills. Kenny grinned, too sleepy to cry, then tucked himself against Craig’s chest and passed out. 

After the two and a half feet of snow that Christmas dumped on them, nothing fresh fell, but Kenny wasn’t upset about it. The following day had Kenny employed by several independent stores to plow their parking lots, and he made another five hundred that day. Kenny took him on what he called a ‘real, proper date’ the day before New Years Eve, driving them to an upscale sushi restaurant in Denver. With both of them still unwilling to give themselves a label or announce to their peers the status of their unlabeled relationship, it was nice to be able to hold Kenny's hand as they walked into the restaurant. They fumbled with chopsticks and then offended all of the rich white people around them by grabbing the pieces of sushi with their fingers. They walked around downtown Denver, holding hands and sneaking kisses. 

On the evening of New Years Eve, he was sliding into a pair of jeans to wear to Bebe's party when Kenny texted him, telling him that Stan and Kyle wanted to grab burgers with them so that they had food in their stomachs when they drank themselves into oblivion. He tugged his hi-tops on, grabbed his wallet, and made his way downstairs. His mother was finishing up a dessert she was taking to the Black's house for their annual party, his father was watching highlights from a football game on TV, and Tricia was nowhere to be found. 

"There's some leftovers in the fridge," his mom said, looking up as he walked into the kitchen. "Should be enough for you and Kenny to have before the party."

"We're going out with some of the guys for burgers," he told her with a shrug. 

"Just make sure you don't have onion breath when you lay one on 'im at midnight," his father called from the other room. Craig whipped around to glare at the back of his father's head. 

"Honey! They haven't told their friends about them yet, don't pressure him!" his mother chastised. Craig groaned, biting back telling his mother that he hadn't told _ them _ about him and Kenny either. He flipped them both off and grabbed his coat on the way out, ignoring his father’s shout of ‘don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!’ as he slammed the door shut. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his coat and began his walk down the street. He’d only been walking for maybe five minutes or so when a familiar truck pulled up beside him, window rolled down.

“How much for a handjo behind the bar?” Kenny called, hanging out the window. Craig rolled his eyes.

“Four grand,” he answered. Kenny sucked air in through his teeth, feigning a stressed look.

“That’s a little steep. What do you charge to grab a burger with a hot blond and a couple of his friends?” Craig smirked, stopped walking, and turned to face the truck. His stomach flipped like it did every time he saw Kenny; his messy blond hair fell in his eyes and he was grinning widely from ear to ear.

“Probably about three-fifty,” he said, a smirk forming on his face.

“Well, I think you’re worth more than BK. How about a Five Guys double bacon cheeseburger?” Kenny asked, waggling his eyebrows.

“You really know how to woo a guy,” Craig said, walking out into the road to climb into the passenger seat. Kenny leaned over, delivering a swift kiss to his lips before throwing the truck into drive and speeding off down the road. 

“We’re also getting extra burgers to eat when we’re hungover and dying tomorrow,” Kenny told him cheerfully. Craig nodded, and flipped through the box of cassettes on the floor before popping The Offspring’s album Smash into the cassette player. They were only halfway through the first song when they pulled up next to Stan’s car, the old family station wagon. Stan and Kyle were within, leaning in toward each other, one of Stan’s hands on Kyle’s leg. 

They’d walked into school holding hands the day after the officer had questioned them about Cartman’s truck. Cartman had nearly said something snide to them, but paused, then walked away, sullen. No one was sure if it had been the murderous look Kyle had given him or the appearance of Wendy behind Stan, looking equally threatening. Judging from the kind looks the two had exchanged once Cartman had left, Craig would guess it was a little of both. No one else dared to give them any shit, and the hive mind of the student body loudly expressed that it was ‘about fucking time’. Now that they were properly announced as a couple, they were sickeningly adorable. As if they hadn’t already been attached at the hip before, they were nigh inseparable now. During separate classes, they would rush to each other afterward, linking hands and taking turns escorting one another to their next class. Stan doted on Kyle, gazing at him every chance he got like Kyle had personally been responsible for every puppy that ever came into existence. Craig was happy for them, though he’d never admit it to anyone. Maybe just Kenny, if he asked. 

They were so absorbed in their own world that they didn’t notice Kenny and Craig pull up, let alone get out of the truck. Kenny threw himself onto the hood of Stan’s car, causing them both to startle in the most grossly sweet fashion. Stan curled in on himself and Kyle immediately shielded him; Craig wanted to vomit. He kicked Stan’s tire.

“Get out here, I’m hungry,” he complained, walking away from the door so Stan couldn’t hit him with it. Kyle exited the station wagon first, scowling and pushing Kenny off the hood of the car. Kenny cackled as he slid off, twisting to his feet easily and bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. Craig eyed him warily.

“He always gets like this before a party, dude,” Stan explained, stepping around Craig and turning Kenny around, giving him a shove toward the doors of the restaurant. 

“Parties are when I’m in my element, I can’t help that I’m a popular social butterfly,” Kenny said over his shoulder. 

“Uh-huh,” Kyle said, sounding unconvinced. “Butterfly your way to the counter or get out of the way.” Kyle shouldered past him anyway, dictating his order to the employee at the counter. Stan stepped up beside him and rattled off his own. While they paid, Kenny made his way back to Craig’s side, and they both looked up at the menu.

“Dinner’s on me tonight,” Kenny said, gaze focused on the menu. Craig nodded, not bothering to argue. Kenny was saving money, but he was also enjoying having a bit of extra cash to spend. If Craig was being honest, he liked being spoiled with food every so often, so he only put up the cursory complaint or two. They each ordered their own bacon cheeseburger and fries, and then a second set of that for either later that night when they were hammered or in the morning when they were so hungover they couldn’t see well enough to drive. They took their receipts with their call numbers on them and grabbed a table in the corner after filling their sodas. Craig sipped on his cherry coke as Kenny chattered animatedly; he watched him talk about the ice luge Bebe was supposed to have and reaching over to nudge Stan about it. He was animated and bright and Craig couldn’t help but stare. 

When their numbers were called, he and Kyle stood to fetch the food - Kenny and Stan were too busy plotting. Kyle stood beside him, reaching for the bag with his and Stan’s food in it. He read the tape on the bag to make sure it was right, then turned to Craig.

“So are you and Kenny officially together or are you just fucking?” Kyle asked, blunt and quiet. If Craig had been drinking something, he’d have choked. Fortunately, he was able to force his face into its usual passive boredom before he turned his head to Kyle. 

“What makes you think we’re doing either?” he asked, blandly as possible. Kyle raised one auburn eyebrow at him.

“Are you serious, Tucker?” he asked. “You two have been gravitating around each other since school started.” Craig ignored him, reaching for a paper cup to pump some ketchup into. “You don’t see the way he looks at you when you’re busy with something,” Kyle continued, his voice a little softer. Craig looked up at him, his gaze sharp. Kyle shrugged as he collected some napkins. “He looks at you like you hung the stars.” Craig’s brow twitched and he wondered if the comparison to the stars was intentional or not - it’s not like he made his love for space a secret. He was… he’s nothing special, though. His most spectacular personality trait is his six foot four frame, and Kenny radiated charm and energy. He took a deep, slow breath. 

“I think he’s the one who did that,” he said quietly, staring down at the little cups of ketchup he’d procured. He felt Kyle’s steady green gaze on him, and he looked down at the other boy. Kyle gazed at him appraisingly, his eyes critical but kind, and then his lips twitched up in a small smile. 

“Then you should tell him that,” he said. “Kenny is loyal to a fault, and he picked you. But everyone's a little bit in love with him.” 

"Are you?" Craig asked, more for something to say about the subject than because he was jealous. Kyle chuckled a little.

"Maybe at one point we all were, even Cartman." Craig visibly cringed at the thought. "But I'm dating literal perfection personified; you can have Kenny." Craig snorted.

"If you think you and Stan would win the boyfriend war, then you're wrong," he said before he could stop himself. He froze immediately after he said it, waiting for Kyle to point at Craig and loudly declare that he finally admitted it. Kyle did nothing of the sort; he grabbed his bag of food, the napkins, and the cups of ketchup.

"Then you might want to ask him out first," he said warmly, and then he walked back to the table. Craig stared after him. He should have been unsurprised by Kyle's bold, straight-shooting words, but he thought he and Kenny had been relatively mum about… whatever they were. The more he thought about it, though...

Tricia knew. His parents knew, despite his vehement denials. Red had caught them kissing naked in his kitchen, which meant that Wendy and Bebe knew as well. If Bebe knew, then so did Clyde. If Bebe _ and _ Clyde knew… Okay, so maybe they hadn't been as subtle as he hoped or wanted. 

Craig's mind could barely keep up with his thoughts. What if Kyle was right about everyone being a little bit in love with Kenny? Craig knew there were plenty of people who didn't like him - what if someone tried to woo Kenny away from him out of spite? What if he lost him before he even got a chance to be with him properly? Craig clutched the bag of burgers and fries in a white knuckled grip, anxiety clawing at his consciousness and closing bony, frigid fingers around his throat. 

Then Kenny looked up and smiled at him, soft and warm and sweet. He noted that Stan and Kyle both looked at Kenny briefly and then immediately went back to their food. He found his feet moving forward, carrying him back to the table where Kenny grinned up at him.

“Thought you were going to leave me to starve, spaceman,” he said, reaching for the bag.

_ Never_, Craig thought. 

\---

Bebe’s parents were at Token’s house for his parents’ annual New Year party and were perfectly fine with their daughter throwing yet another absurd teenage blowout at their house. Their logic was that they’d rather have their daughter and her friends partying in a known, safe location than sneaking around behind their backs. Which, sure, on a base level, it was smart, but when that daughter is Bebe Stevens, one should probably have some sort of leash on her. While Craig only suspected that the girls’ influence extended to the government, he was absolutely sure that they had the Marriott hotel chain under their well manicured thumbs. At least twice a month, Bebe’s parents departed on the weekend to stay at the Marriott in Denver, leaving behind their consistently full alcohol stash and their daughter. And so at least once a month, Bebe played hostess to the student body. Most of the time it was twice a month, but sometimes she took a weekend off, dragging Clyde into her house and not leaving until Monday morning. 

So it was only natural that she’d host the New Years Eve party. Her house was on a big corner lot with a huge backyard, and Wendy and Red were setting up literal fireworks in the street, which they’d blocked off with flashing lights and orange and white barricades. The screened in porch attached to the back door was heated with a little radiator in the corner and there was a fire pit in the middle of the yard with several of their classmates huddled around it. Set far enough away from the fire and lit with string lights was, indeed, an ice luge shaped like a dick. The kitchen was crammed with people pouring out their drinks. Music was synced onto two stereo systems, one in the basement and one in the living room, and Bebe was studiously ignoring anyone who asked who was in charge of the music. 

Sparkling plastic confetti was everywhere, string lights lined everything, and the party was in full swing by ten o’clock. Craig wore his leather jacket over his hoodie; it wasn’t warm, but it looked good. He stood by the fire with Jimmy, Token, and Kevin, a plastic cup filled with something strong and foul tasting clenched in his icy hand. Jimmy was telling of his most recent hookup with a college girl from Boulder and Token was chuckling, but Craig thought that his laughter was more from the scandalized look on Kevin’s face than at Jimmy’s story. A cheer distracted him, and he looked over to where all the noise was coming from.

Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Butters, Clyde, Tweek, and about a dozen others were standing around the ice luge, making an unholy racket as Kenny limbo’d under Butters as he was held up, stiff as a board, by Clyde and Tweek. He stayed bent at the knees as he shuffled over to the ice luge and opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out. Craig couldn’t see his eyes, as they were obscured by a set of aviators he’d somehow acquired, but he guessed they were clenched shut in drunken joy. Stan stood on a chair and poured a shot of something from a squatty bottle that looked suspiciously like Patron into the bisected torso of the ice luge. It raced through, invisible, and shot out the tip of the dick and into Kenny’s mouth. He swallowed it and then dropped to his knees, grasped the shaft of the ice with his hands, and sucked lewdly on the tip. His classmates cheered and Kyle barrelled into Kenny, climbing up onto his back and holding his cup high. Tweek shouted so wildly that he dropped Butters’, letting the boy’s head fall into the trampled snow, and then immediately started shrieking. He only stopped when Butters, already fairly drunk, began laughing, his arms flopping uselessly at his side. A smile split across Tweek’s face, and he burst into laughter before leaning down and hefting Butters’ easily back into his arms for Stan to limbo under. Kenny hoisted Kyle higher on his back and Kyle poured the liquor for Stan, who then loudly declared that he wouldn’t be sucking on an ice dick when he had a perfectly functioning one made of flesh attached to his boyfriend. Stan leaned up and kissed Kyle while he was still perched on Kenny’s back, until Kenny straightened up and dropped him. Suddenly Kenny’s forehead was where Kyle’s mouth was, and Stan planted a sloppy kiss there before reaching for his boyfriend. 

Craig watched, amused, as Kenny, Kyle, and Stan took the place of Butters, Tweek, and Clyde. Kyle and Kenny hoisted Stan up to be the human limbo bar, and Clyde shimmied under him. 

“Looks like fun, honestly,” Token mused. Craig agreed, but wasn’t going to say that. “Go limbo under Stan,” he told Craig.

“Craig’s t-t-too tall. He’d p-p-p-probably fall over,” Jimmy said with a chuckle. Craig flipped him off and walked over to the guys. Kyle caught his eye first and immediately began to cheer, drawing the attention of the others. Kenny whooped at him, and Craig reached over and plucked the aviators off his face. He slid them on and bent backwards, his arms billowing out for balance, then shuffled beneath Stan. Token hollered the whole time, and the rest of his friends burst into wild cheering when he righted himself. Clyde poured the shot down the ice luge and Craig opened his mouth, sticking his tongue out and letting the liquor splash past his lips before he swallowed. He licked the tip of the ice dick before standing back up and flipping everyone off with both hands to wild screams. 

He was warm, buzzing with alcohol and praise, and he almost even smiled at his friends when he nearly toppled backward, ass over tin cups, before he was vaulted into the air. Kenny was between his legs, lifting him into the air, thighs settled on his shoulders. Craig hunched over, clutching at Kenny’s head, trying to balance himself before they both fell to the ground. 

“Now he’s d-d-d-definitely going to f-f-fall over,” Jimmy said, as deadpan as his stutter would allow. 

“Chill, ye of little faith!” Kenny said happily, staggering around until he finally got his bearings. “King of the fuckin’ luge limbo, Craig _ motherfucking _ Tucker!” he shouted. His friends cheered wildly, smashing plastic cups together in a drunken mockery of a toast. 

“You don’t get elected king just because you’re tall - there aren’t any extra points for being a string bean,” Stan protested, a smile on his face as he slung his arm around Kyle’s shoulders. 

“You don’t elect a king, Marsh. You’re born one, or you conquer your way to the top,” Craig said imperiously, staring off into the night as majestically as a drunk teenager could. 

“Then… then I challenge your rule!” Stan shouted, throwing his cup down to the snow in a declaration of war. He patted Kyle’s ass. “Lift me up, servant dude. We must battle!” Kyle scoffed and shoved him away.

“As if, dude. I can’t lift you. You’re a quarterback and I’m on the debate team,” he laughed. Stan pouted.

“But Craig’s rule must be challenged!” he whined. Clyde scrambled in front of Stan, kneeling down in the snow and holding up a plastic cup with a shot in it.

“I offer my shoulders to the rebel king!” Clyde shouted. Stan took the cup, tossed the shot back, and then climbed onto Clyde’s shoulders. Clyde was broad and tall, well muscled from playing football, and he hefted Stan easily. Kyle eyed him with a hazy gaze, sipping at his drink.

“Ten feet tall looks good on you, babe,” he said. Stan grinned and winked down at him, and then Clyde staggered over toward Kenny and Craig. 

“Snow chicken, false king!” Stan cried, pointing at Craig. 

“Christ,” Token swore. 

“Agh! You guys are gonna break your necks if you fall!” Tweek whined. “At least go over to the road so if you fall, it’s in a giant pile of snow so I don’t have to explain to the cops why two idiots died playing _ snow chicken _.” Stan and Craig stared each other down, then nodded. Kenny and Clyde made their way over to the sidewalk, where it had been shoveled clear and piled high. They picked a spot between two massive snow drifts and squared off. Craig stared down at Clyde, his eyes obscured by the aviators. He took them off and passed them down to Kenny, who settled them back on his nose with a grin.

“There will be no mercy for traitors, Clyde. And no more Taco Bell,” he said gravely. 

“Don’t listen to him, Clyde,” Stan said consolingly, patting Clyde’s head. “I’ll buy you Taco Bell when we win and take back the kingdom.”

“As long as someone buys me some fucking Taco Bell,” Clyde huffed. He took a staggering step forward, and then Craig and Stan were grappling. Craig had an inch or two on Stan, but that hardly mattered when they were stacked on top of two drunk people. Kenny’s hands were on his shins and he tilted forward and back as needed, keeping Craig upright. Their friends had gathered and were cheering, and someone went inside and dragged the rest of their class out. Someone pulled out a clip on speaker and started playing _ Eye of the Tiger _ as Stan gave Craig a rough shove that nearly dislodged him from his throne. 

Scowling, he leaned forward again and made a grab for Stan’s arms, crossing them and giving him a hard shove that pushed them both backwards. Clyde lurched back while Stan curled forward, keeping them balanced. As Clyde approached them again, Kenny moved to dodge him so that their backs were facing their friends, shifting below him. His hands left his shins briefly, but he couldn’t look down to see what Kenny was up to. From his peripherals, he could see that Kenny didn’t reach out to Clyde at all, which meant that the standard rules of chicken were still in play. 

And then Craig remembered the lock in at the community center in seventh grade. Remembered Stan literally squealing with laughter as his friends ganged up on him and tickled him until he swore he was going to pee if they didn’t stop. Smirking, Craig reached for Stan’s armpits and jammed his fingers in. Laughter burst forth from Stan immediately, his handsome face scrunching up as he tried to squirm away. He batted at Craig childishly, who cracked a smile and dug his fingers down Stan’s sides, his smile widening as Stan’s peals of gasping laughter grew louder and louder. 

“Oh my _ god! _” Clyde proclaimed loudly, and then proceeded to tumble back into a snowbank. Stan shouted a muffled ‘no!’ as he toppled backward, vanishing into the snow. 

“King Craig retains his fucking crown!” Kenny cheered from below. Craig pumped a fist in the air and crowed his victory into the frigid night sky. Kenny walked him on a victory lap around his subjects, taking a cup that was handed to him and tossing the liquor back. He high-fived people and accepted a fake flower that had been brought outside, mock bowing to his friends. Kenny looped his hands around the tops of his thighs and spun around, laughing. When Kenny stopped moving, Craig shifted his legs to the edges of Kenny’s shoulders and planted his hands. He lifted, balancing his weight on his hands and spreading his legs to bring them down behind Kenny, and then he dropped to the ground. His friends erupted into cheers once again at his little acrobatic stunt and, feeling light and carefree in a way he rarely felt in large groups, he bowed lowly with a grin before being accosted by Tweek and Token wrapping their arms around his shoulder and calling for more shots.

He looked over to Kenny, who was approaching the snowbank. Kyle was already trying to help Stan out, and Kenny took the aviators off and stuck his head in the Clyde shaped hole with a grin. In short order, his best friend was withdrawn from the snowbank, looking a little stunned but not unhappy. Clyde looked at Kenny, his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. Kenny just grinned and shrugged, and then his blue eyes flicked up to Craig. He winked, subtle and quick, before turning to say something else to Clyde. He didn’t catch what it was, because the din of his friends talking loudly drowned out anything he could have picked up. He looked down when two more plastic cups were shoved into his hands, and he had a vague thought that he hoped all this plastic was being recycled. 

Bebe rushed to Clyde, holding him by the shoulders and loudly asking if he was all right. Kenny slipped away and made his way back to Craig’s side. Craig shoved one of the cups into his hands, and Kenny held it up with a grin, the aviators back in place on the bridge of his small nose. 

“To being the kings of New Years Eve,” Kenny said. A few of their friends cheered. Craig grinned back just as fiercely. 

“Kings of the New Year,” he said. Kenny knocked their cups together and took the opportunity to brush his pinky across Craig’s fingers. Craig’s smile softened, just briefly, and then Kenny withdrew and tossed his shot back like it was water. He tipped his head back and howled into the night, and then launched himself onto Stan’s back, demanding a game of beer pong. There were two long tables set up side by side in the screened-in porch. Stan and Kenny teamed up against Tweek and Kyle, and at the second table, Clyde and Bebe went against Wendy and Token. Kenny handed the aviators to Craig, claiming that he was too attractive in them and it would be unfair to everyone else playing if he continued to be such a distraction. Silently, Craig agreed, and he recalled what Kyle had said about everyone being a little in love with him. He was startlingly attractive, double take gorgeous, all long limbs and maybe a little on the skinny side, but he’d filled out a little bit in the last few months, thanks to his mother’s insistence on feeding him and his own money from work. He had an open, genial face and a smile that lit up the sky. 

Craig slid the aviators onto his face and spent the entire game watching Kenny from behind the safety of mirrored lenses like the lovestruck fool he was. 

Kenny laughed loudly, and coming from anyone else it might have been obnoxious, but Kenny was radiating positive energy and happiness, eyes flashing up to Craig’s like he knew he was being watched, like this is exactly where he wanted to be. Surrounded by people who loved him, enjoying himself without a care for what was going on outside of this house and this yard, thriving beneath Craig’s gaze. Every time he made a shot into a cup, he leaned back with a loud, drawn out ‘woo-hoo!’ and celebrated with Stan, usually with a double high five, sometimes with a messy kiss on his cheek, sometimes by linking elbows with him and spinning in a tight circle. Always something extravagant and exuberant, his energy rubbing off on everyone in the room until even Wendy and Token were victory-twerking every time they landed a shot in Clyde and Bebe’s cups. They were so in sync with one another that Craig was beginning to suspect that they practiced together just for this. 

In the end, it was Stan and Kenny against Wendy and Token. Kenny screamed for someone to give him a good luck kiss, and six people swooped in to plant kisses all over his face. Bebe laid one right on his mouth and he dipped her dramatically as he kissed her back. It was close-mouthed and relatively chaste from what Craig could see - and honestly, he was in too good a mood to even think about jealousy. He was surprised that he wasn’t the least bit threatened by the display, but he was more amused by it than anything else. Clyde protested, looking ready to cry, but Kenny reached for him with a devilish grin and kissed him, too. Kyle and Tweek, who had taken up on either side of him, burst into laughter, and Craig joined them. Stan kissed the tip of his nose, Tweek had knelt before him and kissed his knuckles with a wink. Red, who was passing through on her way to the ice luge, eyed Craig pointedly as she kissed Kenny’s neck. Craig smirked at her; he knew she was expecting him to get jealous, but then Kyle kissed Kenny on the mouth right in front of her. Her eyes were wide, tracking from Kyle to Stan and then to Craig, but he only shrugged. He pushed away from the wall and placed a light kiss to Kenny’s cheek. Kenny had already been beaming from the attention, but now he was all but vibrating with energy, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet. He took his place back at the wall between Kyle and Tweek, and what could very well have been the most competitive game of beer pong in drunk teen history began.

“Sorry about that,” Kyle murmured to him, barely discernible over the thump of the music. Craig shrugged.

“I’m actually not bothered,” he said. He stared down at his cup. “We’re all drunk. It made him happy, and I know where he’s going to be sleeping tonight.” Kyle smirked.

“Kenny is loyal. He wouldn’t be doing this if he were sober,” he said. Craig looked down at Kyle, aware the other boy couldn’t see his eyes. He pulled the aviators off his face.

“I don’t really see it as infidelity, though,” Craig mumbled. He really didn’t want this conversation to be overheard, though he was sure Tweek, at least, could hear every word. “If we were in a bar and these were strangers, then yeah. But it’s… it’s all of you. Once Cartman is taken out of the equation, I’m just not worried. It’s all… platonic.” He shrugged again. “It might come back to bite me in the ass one day, but we’ve all been friends for so long that I trust you guys, whether I want to or not.” Kyle’s green gaze softened.

“I think it’s a South Park thing, because that’s mostly how I feel. Mostly,” he reiterated. Craig guessed Wendy was probably his exception, which was understandable. There was a sudden warm breath by his ear, and then arms were wrapped around his ribcage.

“I’m learning some, ugh, real interesting things,” Tweek teased. “You even trust me?” Craig snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“You maybe most of all, you little liar,” he fired back. Tweek laughed and released him, stepping up between him and Kyle and forming a little three-man circle. Tweek grinned, crossing his arms.

“You’re so predictable, Craig,” he teased gently. “More blonds? Haven’t you learned your lesson?” Kyle giggled, hiding a hiccup behind his hand.

“Jealous?” he asked. Both Craig and Tweek laughed.

“Hardly. I’ve been seeing Red for like, three or four months,” Tweek offered. Craig was both horrified for Tweek because oh god, his cousin, and disgusted because, ew, his cousin. Kyle’s eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.

“Ignoring the fact that you’ve kept it in the family, she’s going to eat you alive, dude,” he pointed out. Tweek’s grin turned devilish.

“God, I hope so.”

“Oh, my god,” Craig groaned. “I am feeling a lot of things about this right now and most of them involve projectile vomiting on you.” Tweek shook his head, clucking his tongue.

“This is, ngh, why we never would have worked,” he said, sounding mournful.

“Why, because you’d rather pork my cousin?” 

“Hm, partially,” Tweek grinned. Craig rolled his eyes. 

“Good luck with her, dude. She’s got fangs instead of human teeth,” he said, only partly joking. Tweek sighed dreamily and tucked his hands behind his head.

“Thank god for that,” he hummed. Craig ran his hand down his face. He supposed this was payback for flashing Red on Christmas, and Tweek was clearly enjoying his pain. He was running through the ways he could possibly bleach the thought of his ex and his cousin boning from his brain when Bebe suddenly shrieked. Clyde scrambled back, fearing for his life. 

“Tweek!” she screamed. “This song!” Tweek tilted his head and listened, and then a grin split across his face. It was the theme song to _ Dirty Dancing_, which the high school theatre club had performed in their sophomore year. Tweek and Bebe had the lead roles, and it had really been a spectacular performance. Tweek darted away from Craig and Kyle, furniture in the living room was moved out of the way, and then the two were recreating the iconic dance, albeit a bit more wobbly and giggly than the last time they’d performed it. Bebe kicked over a lamp at one point and Tweek stumbled into the stairs and broke a spindle on the banister. He was built well, not as tall as Craig but twice as bulky, somehow, and his solid back cracked the wooden spindle like it was a toothpick. 

Their class was divided, half of them watch Bebe and Tweek and the other half still focused on the beer pong in front of him. Tipping the aviators back down over his eyes, he decided to watch Bebe and Tweek dance, cheering with his friends when Bebe ran and leapt into Tweek’s arms. Drunk, Tweek stumbled backwards, but Annie was there to grasp Bebe’s hands and steady them before the blond duo went through a wall. Tweek spun her around as Bebe howled the lyrics, her pretty face in a wide grin. The cheering of the crowd watching Tweek and Bebe was suddenly overrun by wild shouting behind him, indicating the completion of the beer pong game. 

Craig walked back through the kitchen and into the screened-in porch. Kenny was held in Stan’s arms bridal style, and Kyle was leaning over him to give Stan a kiss. Wendy leaned over and placed a chaste kiss on Kenny’s head, and Token kissed his thumb and poked at Kenny’s temple, much to the blond’s amusement. When Kenny’s eyes found his, his grin widened so much that Craig wondered how it didn’t hurt.

“Craig!” he called happily, kicking his legs in Stan’s arms. “We won!” Craig rolled his eyes with a smile on his face. He snagged a bottle of something swirly and blue and poured a shot into the cap. Kenny leaned back and opened his mouth, wagging his eyebrows suggestively. It took every ounce of Craig’s dwindling self control to not cover Kenny’s mouth with his own; he reigned himself in and poured the shot into Kenny’s open mouth. Kenny swallowed and smacked his lips loudly. “How long till midnight?” Kenny asked. Craig reached over and pulled Kenny’s sleeve back, tapping the Apple watch to life. 

“Twenty-four minutes,” he said. 

“Dope, that’s enough time for another game. Tweek!” Kenny shouted, his arms around Stan’s neck and his head thrown back. “Get in here and help me kick your ex’s ass at pong!” He wriggled out of Stan’s arms, then shoved the two of them shoulder to shoulder. “Black versus blond!” He leaned up and ruffled their hair, then gave ea74ch of their cheeks a pinch before he turned around to set the table up again. Craig glanced down at Stan, who shrugged at him.

“Don’t look at me, he’s yours,” he quipped, reaching into a cooler nearby for a mixer. Craig huffed, but was secretly too pleased to even deny it. Stan stepped up beside him, rinsed the ball in the cleaner cup, and nailed the first shot. Craig was shit at beer pong, which is why he usually sat back and watched. He managed a few shots though, and from behind the aviators, he could see Kenny beaming with pride with every shot he made. His gaze warmed Craig more than alcohol ever could and he could feel his restraint draining fast. He wished that Kenny had dragged him off to make out until midnight - Craig hadn’t felt his lips since before they arrived at the burger joint and in his drunken state had no problem admitting to himself that he was pouting about it. 

He missed the next two shots, but Stan made up for it by landing three in a row. Each team was down to one cup, and Kenny and Tweek were bent together conspiratorially. Craig narrowed his eyes when Kenny’s eyebrows raised at something Tweek said. Tweek was looking downright devious, and Craig watched as he placed one broad hand on Kenny’s waist. His eyes widened behind the aviators and he felt a throb of desire shoot through him. He wasn’t romantically attracted to Tweek anymore, but he couldn’t deny that he was handsome, and his thing for blonds clearly hadn’t gone away. 

“Can you two please focus on the game instead of removing all the blood from Craig’s brain?” Stan sighed, sounding very put upon. He bumped Craig out of the way with his hip, lined up the shot, and sunk it into Kenny and Tweek’s remaining cup. The blonds groaned, and Stan and Craig cheered their victory. 

“That’s what you shits get for cheating!” Stan crowed, jabbing a finger at them. Kenny shrugged, an easy grin on his handsome face.

“Next time we’ll get Kyle too, then we’ll be unstoppable,” he said. 

“Kyle wouldn’t stoop that low,” Stan said, crossing his arms.

“Yes I would,” Kyle chirped as he walked past them, his arms full of liquor, shouldering the door open and stepping into the yard.

“What! Hey!” Stan called, pouting, and then he was gone, bolting after his boyfriend. A moment later, he poked his head back in, smiling.

“Five minutes, fuckers!”

Tweek shoved his hands in his pockets and shot them a grin. “Better find a spot to get cozy, away from prying eyes.” He winked at them. Craig pushed his hands up under the aviators and rubbed at his eyes, seriously contemplating punching Tweek in the stomach. Kenny took the sunglasses back, fixing them on his face with a smirk.

"Shouldn't you be finding a bed to fuck Red in? Yanno, start the new year off with a fingerbang or something?" 

"Jesus christ, I'm out," Craig grumbled. He walked away from Kenny and Tweek just as the latter was declaring Kenny to be full of good ideas. Gagging at the mental images, he made his way outside. Wendy, Bebe, and Red were fiddling with what looked like a projector in the middle of the yard, and Craig turned around and looked up to see that the image was shone onto the back or Bebe's house, between the upstairs windows. A livestream of Times Square in New York was displayed, and the big glittering ball was prepped and ready to drop with a timer above it. Three minutes. Craig took a drink from the cup he’d been holding. He was approaching the point where his buzz turned to properly drunk, not quite there, but he wanted to slow down. He was already going to have a hangover tomorrow morning, and he didn’t really want to make it worse. 

There was a light touch at his elbow, and he turned to see Kenny standing beside him, cup in hand and aviators on his handsome face. He smiled up at Craig, soft and warm; Craig shuffled a little closer, and if anyone said anything… well, he supposed he could blame it on the cold winter night, but he didn’t want to give credit to anything but his desire to be near Kenny. Kenny leaned against him briefly and Craig thrummed with affection. Two minutes. 

The house emptied, all of his friends and classmates spilling out into the yard to watch the ball drop on the projector. Token added several logs to the fire and the speakers set up in the windows of the screened-in porch began to play a rowdy version of _ Auld Lang Syne_. Craig personally preferred the softer versions of the song, because old Scottish poems weren’t ever cheerful. But the loud, boisterous version with bagpipes suited the overall mood of the party. The lights began to wink out, plunging the backyard into darkness. The light pollution from the piddly little street lamps wasn’t enough to dampen the stars or the moon, which cast its silvery glow over them. People were singing what they thought were the lyrics to the traditional song, beer bottles and cups clinking together. 

Stan and Kyle were staring into each others’ eyes and mumbling the wrong words, looking stupidly in love and happy. Token, Clyde, and Jimmy were already counting down - their shouts said that there was only a minute left now. Kevin, Jason, and Jimmy were singing loudly - only Jimmy was saying anything that sounded even remotely similar to the lyrics. Bebe plugged in some string lights, providing just enough mood lighting. The projector was running itself well, and Wendy and Red were in the blocked off section of the road, ready to light the fireworks. Butters stood with Tweek, swaying slightly, while his Kahlua drinking ex made eyes at Red. 

Kenny stood close to Craig, his eyes obscured by the aviators, and he was singing the song. He kept pace with the tempo of the song, but he sang the correct lyrics softly and clearly. One of his hands clutched his drink and the other was shoved into his pocket. He was staring up at the projection of Times Square, his face illuminated in soft twinkling lights, and Craig was reminded once more of how unearthly everything about Kenny was. He was gorgeous like this, half drunk and flushed with happiness, singing a song into the night like he was alone. 

“Twelve! Eleven! _ Ten! _” 

Craig swirled his cup around, tossing the last bit of it back before throwing it over into a nearby bin. He sighed, but it was swallowed up by the crowd as they screamed down the seconds to midnight.

“Nine! Eight! Seven!”

Kenny looked up at him, his face splitting into a grin as the lyrics fell off his lips. He licked his lower lip briefly, then jerked his head to the side, in the direction of the shed. _ We could get out of here _.

“Six! Five! Four!”

Craig flicked his eyes over to the shed. He and Kenny could slip off and spend the next twenty minutes kissing each other stupid, and everyone was drunk enough that they wouldn’t be missed. Instead, he lifted his hand to Kenny’s face and took the aviators off. Brilliant blue eyes sparkled up at him, a smile still in place, and the string lights shone off his skin like stars. Or like the glimmering dust that made up everything in the universe, and Kenny was covered in it because Craig exploded the moment Kenny had first leaned across the seat in his truck to kiss him. 

“Three! Two! _ One! _”

Craig leaned down and kissed him, his hands settling on Kenny’s hips to drag him closer. Kenny tossed his cup, still full, onto the ground and stepped up to Craig, grasping his face between his big, rough hands as he kissed him back. Around them, their friends screamed ‘Happy New Year!’ to one another. Craig’s arms wrapped around Kenny’s thin waist, one hand creeping up his back to cradle him close. The smile hadn’t left Kenny’s face, Craig could feel it against his lips. He licked at the seam of Kenny’s mouth and slid his tongue inside when Kenny parted his lips for him with a small sigh. Kenny wrapped his arms around Craig’s head, the smile falling from his mouth as he deepened the kiss. 

He didn’t care that their friends could see them. He was tired of having to side-step certain conversations. It had been a month of dodging questions and denying those knowing glances, a month of diverting gossip and rumours and he was tired of it. He was _ proud _ to be the object of Kenny McCormick’s affections, was more than happy to brag that Kenny was the object of his, too. He wanted to hold Kenny’s hand as they walked into school together and debunk the rumours that Kenny had slept with so-and-so at the last house party. Eventually, he wanted to tell Kenny just how helplessly in love with him he was, but he was still waiting for that perfect moment. The holidays were too cliche, and he wanted Kenny to know that he was serious about it, and not just swept up in the romance of Christmas and New Years. 

Of course, coming out to their friends at exactly midnight on New Years Eve with a searing, passionate kiss in the middle of a yard full of half drunk teenagers was about as cliche as it got. Craig didn’t care; he’d been dying to kiss Kenny all night, and now that he was, he found he had no regrets about it, cliche or not. When the first wolf-whistle started up, Kenny grinned against him again, digging his fingers into his hair. He could hear his friends and classmates start to chatter and shout at them excitedly. For most, it was a surprise. He could hear Bebe screeching, demanding why she didn’t know anything about this. He heard a dramatic sniffle, which was probably Clyde. Stan and Kyle were shouting at them, random bursts of ‘fucking finally!’ and ‘get a room!’. 

“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Butters sighed dreamily. 

"Traumatizing is the word you're looking for, hon," Red deadpanned in return. 

"This town will never know peace again," Kevin said gravely. 

"This place has never been peaceful and you know it, Stoley," Kyle laughed. 

"Yes, very happy for the new couple, good for you guys, many happy years and all that," Wendy said impatiently. "But we are literally seconds away from lighting the fireworks so could you all please let them suck face in peace? These things weren't cheap."

The grin that broke out on Kenny's face ended the kiss before Craig would have decided to. Craig flipped their friends off, but Kenny beamed at them. 

"Well, Testaburger, light 'em up! I need something pretty to kiss my boyfriend under," he said cheerfully. Already flushed with the attention (and maybe a little because of the alcohol), Craig buried his face into Kenny's neck, grinning hugely. Hearing Kenny call him 'boyfriend' out loud, to their entire class, was more than Craig thought he could handle. They didn't need to see how pleased he was about it, though he supposed he'd given it all away by hiding his face. He couldn't have been happier than he was in this moment - he probably hadn't ever been happier in his life, and he didn't know if he'd ever feel this happy again, after this day. This bright, stunning, star-studded creature was his _ boyfriend _ , had chosen _ him _. Craig couldn’t fathom why, but he was happy, Kenny was in his arms, and there was no more reason for sneaking around. 

He gave Kenny’s neck a little nibble and a kiss, and when he picked his head up, Wendy, Bebe, and Red were back in the middle of the street, kneeling down to light the fireworks off. A butane torch was in Red’s hand, and there was a small, satisfied smirk on her face as she lit the first fuse. In short order, a spark shot into the air, climbing high above the houses before exploding in a shower of gold, red, and green balls of fire. Butters gasped happily and the rest of the crowd murmured in awe. They were expecting the small fireworks that were sold in tents during the Fourth of July. These were clearly professional grade, and Craig once again wondered just what kind of connections his cousin had. 

Kenny wrapped himself around Craig, forcing them chest to chest, their heads tilted up as they watched the fireworks. Craig smiled to himself, curling his body around Kenny and debating on whether or not the fireworks would look better if he stared at them or if he watched their reflection in Kenny’s eyes. The fireworks were set off, dahlias, spiders, strobes, and swirling silver dragons danced through the sky, high above the roofs of the houses. Someone passed sparklers around with a lighter, and Clyde engaged Token in a spectacular sparkler sword fight. The two of them practiced fencing at Token’s house, and the faux fight was elegant and magical, with sparks flying around on each contact. The fireworks show went on for a solid ten minutes, which was a long, long show for a bunch of high school kids knowing nothing about advanced pyrotechnics. As the last embers fell from the sky, Kenny leaned up and pressed a kiss to Craig’s cheek. 

Craig looked back down and he felt his features soften as he blinked down at Kenny. The stars and moon were slightly obscured by the smoke from the fireworks, but Craig knew they were still there. Partly because of their steadfast devotion to existence, and partly because whether they were visible or not, they always seemed to shine through Kenny’s eyes. 

Their friends cheered for the fireworks, screaming their joy into the night. Craig was silent, but he felt light throughout his body. Maybe it was his soul that was screaming in delight and wonder; he could hear his own voice in his ears but knew he wasn’t making a sound. It must be that, he thought as he stared down into blue eyes that projected the stars like a backlit map of the cosmos. Vapid and stereotypical as it was, that was the only way he knew to describe it. His soul was singing, howling and caterwauling his elation. He hoped beyond anything else that Kenny could hear it, this wild soulsong composed just for him. 

Craig kissed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so fun to write, so I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Happy Holidays, whatever you may celebrate, and may the new year bring you everything you need, most of what you want, and nothing that makes you sad.


	10. The One Where Kenny is a Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Hold me up against the wall  
Give it till I beg, give me some more  
Make me bleed, I like it raw  
Like it raw, raw, raw"  
_ \- Simon Curtis, Flesh_

On their first day back to school after the holiday break, Kenny picked Craig and Tricia up like he usually did. Tricia and Karen fit into the tiny cab of his truck, scrawny as they were. They teased their brothers relentlessly as Kenny reached over to hold Craig’s hand. Craig grumbled at them to shut up, and flipped them off. 

When they walked into school holding hands, the two girls quickly shut up, though, and flipped a switch - Tricia verbally bit the head off of one of her classmates who said something snide about her brother and his boyfriend. Craig raised his eyebrow at his sister, quietly pleased with the display. Kenny tittered happily and wrapped her in a hug. Tricia protested loudly, shoving at his long limbs and telling him to fuck off already. Karen stepped in and dislodged her brother from her best friend and dragged Tricia off to homeroom. Cackling to himself, Kenny scooped Craig's hand up in his again and stepped through the doors.

Those who hadn't attended the party had heard about them through the rumour mill about their big dramatic entrance into the South Park dating scene. Many people, Bebe included, had expressed their disappointment when they learned that they'd already been seeing each other for a month when they finally announced to their friends that they were an item. They didn't tell them that New Years had been the final defining moment of their relationship; they hadn't referred to one another as boyfriends before then, though they'd been committed since long before that first kiss. Maybe since that first conversation. 

As they walked through the school hand in hand, there was some excited chatter and pointing. Craig flipped a lot of people off, but Kenny was preening with all the attention, sidling close as Craig scowled. 

"Don't frown so hard. They're all just jealous that they don't get to date you now," Kenny said, sounding proud and smug. 

"Or maybe they're just a bunch of nosy motherfuckers who don't know how to mind their business," Craig grumbled. 

"That too," Kenny said brightly. He gave his hand a squeeze. "Fuck 'em. Let them say what they want. It's not going to change the fact that I'm gonna walk around school every day, holding your hand and being real fuckin' cute while I do it."

Craig side eyed Kenny, unable to repress the smirk growing on his face. Kenny was right, of course. South Park was fueled entirely by gossip, and no matter how many beatings he dished out, tongues would wag. He remembered the way the entire town had lost their minds over him and Tweek during the fourth grade. The town was the entire reason they even started dating that first time. The second time had nothing to do with the town, just their feelings for each other as they entered their hormone filled teenage years. By then, the town had apparently lost interest in the relationships of minors, much to Craig’s relief. Now it was only his classmates and family taking an interest, which he supposed he could deal with. He had in the past, and he could do it again. He had Kenny at his side, which made even daunting tasks seem so much less stressful. 

Kenny left him for his first class with a dirty kiss in the middle of the hallway, to a chorus of cat calls and someone that sounded like Jimmy screeching ‘ow-ow!’ in a high falsetto. Craig turned to see him standing by some lockers with Clyde, who was making humping gestures in the air with his hips. Craig leveled them with a glare and his favourite finger, then stomped off to his own first period feeling like he’d rather be anywhere else. He had chemistry, and while he enjoyed it and earned high marks, it wasn’t an easy class first thing in the morning. Ignoring the girls gossiping in the corner of the room and sending him inquisitive looks, he threw himself down in his chair and unzipped his bag. 

And immediately clutched it to his chest, hiding it from his classmates. Fuming, he stuck his hand inside and fished around until he felt the note taped to the box of condoms. He ripped it off and barely withdrew it from his bag to squint at it.

_ ‘Free periods are great, just don’t fucking get caught. Love, Dad.’ _

Craig wanted to kill himself. 

He'd been dreading the "Kenny and I are officially dating now" conversation with his parents, but Tricia had taken care of that quite nicely for him. Kyle had apparently told Ike about New Years Eve, and Ike had told Tricia about as immediately as he could. Craig and Kenny had crashed at Bebe's along with just about everyone else, and he'd woken up to texts from his mother and father, along with a 'whoops, slip of the tongue' text from Tricia, who didn't sound apologetic at all. 

Wisely, they hadn't said anything to him when he came home that day, hurrying up to his room to check on Chips and Ser Nibblefluff (their water and hay had been topped off, and while he didn't like people coming into his room while he wasn't there, he was grateful that his mom was remembering his new pets). When Kenny came over that evening to watch the last hours of the Twilight Zone marathon, his parents hadn't even told him to keep his door open, something that had been a staple with Thomas. His dad instead simply told them to just turn the volume up and try not to be loud. 

Craig had wanted to bury himself in the yard and let the earth reclaim him, the colour draining from his face. When Kenny had answered with a cheerful, 'No problem, Mr. T!' to which his father nodded approvingly, Craig flushed violently and stormed off upstairs, leaving Kenny to cackle with his father. 

Now his father was gifting him condoms, which he was perfectly capable of buying himself. He always carried one or two with him, as Kenny had a habit of spontaneous groping that always led to more. On one hand, he was kind of happy. His father was a little aloof with his affections, rarely unkind, if a bit detached most times. That he was reaching out like this spoke volumes of his approval regarding his relationship. It was wildly embarrassing, knowing that his parents were probably waiting to hear the bed thumping against the wall every time Kenny came over, turning up the volume on the television set in anticipation. 

He stuffed the condoms to the bottom of his bag and withdrew his textbook and binder and tried very hard not to think about how he was definitely going to use one of those condoms that afternoon. 

Both Kenny and Craig had a free slot of time at the end of the day. It was technically a study hall, but they’d literally never gone to the study hall classroom. They’d always skipped to wander through the woods, go to the movies, or head back to Craig’s room to smoke a little and watch movies. Since that first kiss, they’d spent that free period learning one another’s bodies, dragging pleasure out of one another in the soft darkness of closets and empty classrooms. They’d snuck around, careful to avoid seeing anyone else lest the rumours fire back up. 

Now they made no secret of where they were going, and what their intentions were. 

At the beginning of the last class of the day, Kenny met Craig outside of his previous class and took his hand, his blue eyes glittering and flirtatious as he led him through the throngs of students. He walked them to the far west of the school where the music wing was. The choir practice room was back here, though it wouldn’t be filled with students and their voices until after school. The music teacher, who also instructed a keyboard class and vocal classes, didn’t teach in the last period of the day, effectively leaving the entire department empty. Down a short corridor was her office, and to the left of that was the music room. They didn’t even get down that far - in the corridor itself were four practice rooms, which were soundproofed and rarely used when band was out of season. The practice rooms only had small windows on them, and within were a few sheet music stands and chairs. One of them had a piano, but Kenny guided them to one in the middle that only held a few metal chairs. He opened the door and turned, fixing Craig with a heated look and crooking his finger in a little ‘come hither’ gesture, looking devastatingly attractive as he backed into the dark room. 

Already seduced, Craig followed him with a predatory look on his face, making sure the door sealed shut properly and locking it. He dropped his backpack and advanced on Kenny, backing him into the far wall and leaning in to kiss his neck. Kenny hummed, tilting his head and wrapping his arms around Craig’s neck. 

“One whole day back at school,” Craig mumbled, dragging his lips up to Kenny’s ear, “and you’re already dragging me off to fuck in the dark.” Kenny snorted.

“I’m insatiable and you’re literally the hottest dude in school, we’re going to do this every day if we can get away with it,” Kenny said confidently. Craig kissed up Kenny’s chin and flicked his eyes open, catching Kenny’s face tilted back, eyes closed, lips parted as his breath kicked up. There’s no way Craig would ever believe that he was the best looking guy in school, not when a walking wet dream like Kenny McCormick existed. Boys and girls alike wanted him because he had a face like an angel and a smirk that turned even the best people into sinners. He was so desired, so popular, so well liked by nearly everyone in school - the jocks, the nerds, the skids, even the goths were known to not chase him away from their area as they smoked. And somehow Craig was the one he smiled at, whose hand he held, whose lips he descended on like the messiah. Craig was the one who got to curl around him on the weekends and take lazy afternoon naps while Netflix played in the background. 

Craig got to sit on his cock and ride him into oblivion. 

Which is exactly what he decided he wanted to do. Feeling lucky enough to be able to make such a decision, Craig tugged at Kenny's hoodie and tossed it to the floor, digging his fingers into the thin material of his t-shirt and dragging their hips together. They were hard in their jeans, and Kenny quickly pushed the leather jacket from Craig's shoulders, letting it fall on top of his hoodie. He shoved his hands up under Craig’s shirt and worked it off as well; Craig grabbed it as it slid over his head and he tossed it away. He thought that maybe getting completely nude for a quick fuck in school wasn’t such a grand idea, but the look Kenny gave him made him want to risk it all. There was a primal hunger in his blue eyes, darkened with lust and flashing in the barely-there light that filtered in from the dim fixtures in the hall. Kenny reached out and dragged a finger up Craig’s torso, starting at the waistband of his jeans and traveling all the way up to brush over his nipples. He ran his tongue over his lower lip.

“One day - soon - I want you to fuck me,” Kenny murmured reverently, with so much more passion than a room in a school deserved to overhear. His words hit Craig like a punch to the gut. “Your hips are so fucking sexy.” He let his hands wander down to Craig’s waist, his thumbs kneading the lean muscle there. “Strong, sharp.” He leaned in close and cupped Craig’s cock through his jeans. Craig closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. “Wanna feel you fucking into me, hard.” 

The thought of fucking Kenny was one that had his head spinning. Craig was always a bit of a switch, though they hadn’t brought that up yet. He was glad Kenny brought it up, because suddenly nothing was more appealing than laying Kenny down in his bed and working him open until he was a crying, drooling mess. Fingering him until he was sloppy and loose, sucking his cock until he came all over his tongue and then fucking him into another orgasm. 

“That what you want?” he asked, his voice husky and deep with lust. 

“Mmm, if you do,” Kenny hummed thoughtfully. “Though if you prefer to bottom I won’t force the issue.” Affection swelled in Craig’s chest, because Kenny was so thoughtful and _ respectful _ that it didn’t seem real. Craig kissed the corner of his mouth.

“I don’t mind switching,” he said softly. He nibbled at the corner of Kenny’s lips, his hands on his hips to keep him close. “And thinking about wrecking you like that has me so hard.” 

“That what you wanna do to me, baby? Wreck me?” Kenny asked, a smile quirking at his lips.

“Fuck, yes,” Craig mumbled, unable to articulate any better response. He’d sworn he was going to get better at dirty talk, but so far all he’d managed to do was become inordinately aroused by everything Kenny ever said. Craig dragged his lips down Kenny’s neck, kissing softly. “You’ll come over this weekend?” he asked. “Mom and dad are off with Trish for some Girl Scouts thing overnight this Saturday.” Craig could feel a small laugh as it rose through Kenny’s throat. 

“You sayin’ you want me to be loud?”

“I’m saying I want to see how loud you can get,” Craig murmured, his voice as low and sensual as he could pitch it. It seemed to have the desired effect, because Kenny shuddered and sighed against him.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s a plan,” he breathed. The hand at his crotch then palmed him insistently again, and Craig sighed. “But since we’re here, I wanna see just how soundproof this room is. Craig versus the room.” Craig let out a breathy laugh; he could get pretty loud, or at least he did with Kenny, and they’d stayed pretty vanilla so far. He couldn’t wait to get him alone on a weekend to tell him to fuck him until he was a sobbing, drooling, incoherent mess. He was tempted to ask for that now, but the last thing he needed was to be crawling through the school, legs shaking and barely able to walk while Kenny stood smug beside him. Deciding that the school wasn’t ready for that, he dragged Kenny down to the floor, fully intending on carrying out his original plan.

\---

Getting his parents and sister out of the house had been a nightmare of a thing to accomplish. Not because they were particularly late, or because they didn’t have their things packed. Tricia was remarkably organized to the point of neuroticism; she’d made a list weeks beforehand and had been packed and ready to go three days prior to Saturday morning. There were no car troubles and his parents didn’t argue. 

No, the nightmare came in the form of his father dramatically begging Craig not to fuck Kenny in his favourite chair. 

It was hard, in that moment, to not punch his father in the gut and spite-fuck Kenny on the chair as soon as they left. Thomas Tucker grinned at his son’s discomfort, dodging a swat from his wife. Craig ground his teeth, his eyelid twitching. 

“And not on our bed, either,” his father added.

“Get the fuck out, dad,” Craig snapped. Thomas tapped on his chin.

“And not on the kitchen table. I say grace there.”

“I’m going to kill you.” 

Laura was dragging Thomas out the door, attempting to wave goodbye to her son. 

“The shower is fine, though, if you —”

Craig didn’t let him finish. He slammed the door in his father’s face, locked it, and tugged his hat down over his eyes in embarrassment. He supposed he should be grateful that his parents approved of Kenny so thoroughly that they were actively displaying that they knew what two hormone driven teenagers would be getting up to while the adults were gone, and even going so far as to discuss it with him. Mortifying as it was, Craig supposed that he should be at least somewhat thankful that his parents hadn't insisted on dragging him along with them. They were perfectly aware of what he was going to be doing and who he was going to be doing it with and they were fine with it. Other parents, he knew, weren't quite so tolerant of teenagers banging in their homes all weekend. 

Craig left the scene of his embarrassment and made his way upstairs to shower. He stripped his clothes off and caught sight of himself in the mirror as he leaned over to turn the water on. Marks littered his chest, collarbones, and neck, loud evidence of Kenny's affection for him. He lifted his hand and brushed against one of them, a slick shock of desire rolling through him. Kenny hadn’t been having him on; he was insatiable, and every day during their free period, he’d dragged Craig off to either the music practice rooms or some other secluded, little used room of the school. It was sex, sure, but more than that, it was time for them to wrap themselves in one another like they’d grown used to doing during the holiday break. Sometimes they’d sneak out onto the roof to pack a bowl and smoke until school ended, and sometimes they’d ditch entirely, plowing snow for money and eating fast-food. Sometimes they made their way to the bleachers in the gymnasium and would lay flat on their backs, and Craig would talk about space, or Kenny would chatter about what he was going to do with the money he was making. He would talk about how he was already saving up for Karen’s college education, and a car for her when she learned to drive. He gossipped harmlessly, usually about how sickeningly sweet Stan and Kyle had been in class or how he heard Jimmy practicing a new routine to himself in the bathroom. He filled Craig’s silences, gesticulating grandly and speaking every bit as animatedly as he had when they’d gone to the movies that first time. 

Those were his favourite moments. When he and Kenny lay on their backs on the bleachers, the crowns of their heads touching, he could close his eyes and listen to Kenny talk, and talk, and talk. Sometimes he’d sing. More than just the humming Craig had heard, more than the soft, drowned murmurs of an old Scottish poem. None of the songs were anything they typically listened to together. Some of the songs weren’t even in English, but Craig didn’t care. Kenny had a gorgeous singing voice. It soothed over him in a rush, cool blue water sliding over him and filling his cracks until he thought that every broken piece of himself, every hole where people had ripped themselves out of his life, was filled with Kenny. His voice ricocheted around the gymnasium, bouncing back to Craig and cradling him. He could listen to Kenny sing or talk for hours, and sometimes he did. 

He stepped into the shower, taking care as he washed over the sensitive marks on his skin. More would be added over the next twenty-four hours, he was sure of that. Kenny would be on his way over after he finished plowing the roads of South Park for the day, after last night’s snowfall. They had plans for dinner and a movie, with lots of hand holding and soft kisses. They had nothing to hide anymore. Their friends knew, Craig’s parents knew. He was sure Kenny’s parents had heard, but he wasn’t sure if they cared that their youngest son was involved with another boy. Kenny didn’t talk about his parents much, not even when he complained about paying the bills or buying groceries for them all. But Kenny hung all over him at every moment he could, arms around his waist and hands tucked into his back pocket, so he must not have cared all that much who saw them or just who it all got back to. 

Craig finished bathing and stepped out of the shower. He toweled his hair dry and ran a brush through it, then secured the towel around his waist while he brushed his teeth. His mind wandered again, mostly thinking of Kenny, though there was a nagging voice in his head reminding him of college. He pushed the thought down as he dressed himself, knowing that going down the rabbit hole of his future would only sour his evening before it even got started. He pulled up a mindless TV show on Netflix and got the guinea pigs out. He put some toys down on the floor for them and sat down with them. Still terrified baby pigs, they stayed by him for the most part, unwilling to explore the dark cavern under his bed just yet. That was fine with Craig; he liked the way they curled up at his side and refused to move. They still flinched when he reached for them and pet them, but they were at least seeking him out more and more. Sir Nibblefluff clambered up into his lap, squeaking softly and trying to eat Craig's jeans. Craig stroked him gently, his large hand completely eclipsing the tiny body of the baby guinea pig. Eternally sleepy, he contemplated laying back on the floor and dozing off, but he really didn't feel like being peed on. He flicked through Netflix and was looking for something else to watch when the doorbell rang. 

He picked up the pigs, dropped a kiss on each of their heads, and set them back in their pen. They had a full bin of hay and over half a bottle of water, so they were set for the evening. He made his way downstairs eagerly and opened the front door. It was Kenny, of course, and he looked up at Craig brightly as he stepped inside. He was in his space immediately, pressing cold hands to Craig’s cheeks to pull him down for a kiss. Craig melted into him and had to fight the urge to simply drag him upstairs and order food for delivery. Craig breathed him in, and he smelled clean and smoky, Irish Spring and American Spirits, always that heady combination. Kenny pulled back with a delicate little suck to Craig’s lower lip, and desire shot through him, rolling his stomach. 

“The movie isn’t until six. You wanna do dinner before or after?” He put his hands on Craig’s hips, thumbs massaging and pulling him close. Craig’s heart pounded and he wanted to cancel all their plans and drag Kenny upstairs and gravitate around one another for a while. 

“Before,” he found himself saying anyway, only a little breathless. Kenny nodded as if he were listening to music instead of Craig’s nasal voice, and Craig felt himself falling just a little harder. 

“Seafood?” Kenny suggested. Craig bobbed his head in agreement, feeling not nearly as graceful as Kenny when he did it. He tugged on his boots and grabbed his jacket; Kenny held the door open for him, reaching around to lock it before he closed it behind them. Craig looked out at the streets, and they were unsalted but clear, and the plow on the front of Kenny’s truck was caked with packed wet snow. Craig stayed focused on the road as Kenny backed them out into it.

“The roads look good, babe,” he said sincerely, craning his neck and gazing up the street. When he was met with silence instead of Kenny’s usual boisterous response to praise, he turned around to study his face. Kenny was staring at him, eyes warm and sparkling, his face soft and affectionate and looking pleased beyond reason. 

“You really think so?” he asked softly. A little puzzled, Craig shrugged.

“Of course I do,” he reaffirmed. “You have a business now; it’s awesome and you do a good job.” Craig didn’t really feel like he was doing a good job reassuring Kenny of his work, but the way Kenny beamed at him left him feeling like he hadn’t completely failed. When Kenny turned his attention back to the road to begin to drive, Craig settled his gaze into his lap, feeling slightly flustered, but pleased. 

The seafood restaurant was close to the Bijou, and maybe they would have taken the time to walk there, hand in hand, if it hadn’t been so bitterly cold out. As they approached the restaurant, Kenny held the door open for him and Craig felt his chest tighten as he stepped through, head down and face flushed in pleasure at the gesture. The restaurant was busy, but they were seated immediately anyway, their waitress bringing out warm, fresh bread and glasses of water to start. Soft pop music was playing in the background, the lights were dimmed for the romantic evening hours, and the look Kenny was giving Craig over the top of his menu turned his insides to jelly. This was the second of what Craig thought were traditional dates. He'd been on a few with Thomas, but they had been at the beginning, before Thomas could drive and his parents still had to bring him to South Park, and before Craig had slept with him. After that, the dates had mostly stopped. The fights started. Sex was the only thing they could manage to stop arguing long enough for. 

Now here he was, less than a year later, doing everything in reverse with Kenny. They fucked before they'd been on a proper date, and if the old fashioned homophobes in town had known that, they'd be spitting mad and organizing a lynch mob. They probably dreamed about doing it now, seeing as Kenny had tucked his foot between Craig's under the table and was grasping his hand while they browsed their menus. It was cheesy and corny and old school romantic, and he was eating it all up. He loved it, and hoped that he wouldn't ever have to say that he did; he just hoped that Kenny would read his body language and interpret from there. 

Their waitress came back and they ordered sodas and their meals, forgoing an appetizer. Kenny didn’t release his hand the entire time, but their waitress didn’t say a thing. 

“So,” Kenny began. “I”ve been thinking of getting an apartment after we graduate. There’s a few cheap ones in town. Now that I’m making some money, I’ve got enough saved up for a few months’ rent already.” Craig considered this news for a moment.

“What about Karen?” he asked. Kenny deflated a little.

“I figure she’ll come stay with me. Mom and dad have each other; I’ll catch them when they’re sober and tell them that they don’t have to be responsible for her anymore. It’s not like they’re paying for insurance or anything, and we’re not leaving South Park. Not yet, anyway,” he said. Clearly he’d put thought into all of this. “They won’t have to pay for any of their kids anymore, they’ll be thrilled about it.”

“What apartments were you looking at?” Craig asked. Kenny babbled happily about the different units he’d seen online and how Kyle’s dad had offered to help him search and get a good deal. All the while, Craig held onto his hand, enjoying listening to the sound of Kenny’s voice as he spoke animatedly. If they’d been in private, he might have even dropped his chin into his hand to stare dreamily at him. Listening to Kenny talk about his goals, knowing that he was working hard enough to achieve those goals, knowing that he was centering his goals around taking care of his little sister, it all just compounded, building on his affection and taking up so much space in his soul that he wasn’t sure how much longer there’d be room for anything else. 

When their food came, they reluctantly let go of one another to eat. Craig had salmon, and Kenny had a variety plate of a lobster tail, scallops, and steamed shrimp. It was delicious, and Kenny talked loudly about how much better it was going to be when they were both twenty-one and he could really ‘wine and dine’ him. The thought of still being with Kenny in four years was an alluring thought that had him ready to float from his chair. He was a sap, he was a fucking sap, he might as well have been a tree. A big, Canadian tree, oozing sticky amber all over the place. He’d never acted on any of his romantic impulses, but suddenly candlelit dinners seemed entirely appropriate, given that now he knew that Kenny was thinking of things in the long term, too. 

And _ Valentine’s Day _ was next month, holy mother of god. He wished he had the money to order thirty dozen roses and have them delivered to Kenny at his house, and another thirty dozen delivered to the school, along with a teddy bear the size of a bed and chocolate and sushi in the shape of hearts. He wanted to be as tacky as possible, he wanted to watch Kenny’s face burn red and bury himself in the hood of his parka, grinning so widely that little beams of starlight would creep through his fingers. He wanted to shower Kenny with chintzy romantic gestures and pepper him with all the affection that Craig had once been too shy to express. Now he _ wanted _ to express them, wanted to be boisterous and loud about them. Kenny deserved it. Kenny deserved everything. 

"You still with me, spaceman?" 

Kenny's gentle voice interrupted his increasingly sappy thoughts. He blinked him back into focus to see him smiling, soft and fond, as Craig zoned out in the middle of dinner. 

“Yeah. Just thinking,” he murmured, before he could really stop to think about how he was going to answer Kenny’s inevitable question.

“Oh yeah?” he asked, right on schedule. He grinned, his eyes narrowing playfully. “What about?” 

Craig thought about what he could say. He could tell the truth, that he was half a step away from dropping a thousand rose petals onto his head and kissing him senseless in the middle of the restaurant. He could say that he was thinking about bending Kenny over the table and fucking him right there, or about sinking between his knees in the theatre later and quietly sucking his dick. 

“That you look really good tonight,” Craig answered. It wasn’t a lie, per se. Kenny looked good, wearing a soft blue and white flannel over a black v-neck, a pair of black jeans that weren’t torn to hell, and black boots. Better than good; when Kenny had taken his thick coat off, Craig’s mouth had gone a little dry and his own dick twitched with interest. Kenny smirked.

“Sweet talker. You’re just trying to get into my pants,” he accused.

“Is it working?” 

“Since day one. You ready for the movie, hot stuff?” Kenny held out his hand as he stood, and Craig took it without hesitation. 

“Let’s go, honey,” he said. When Kenny paused, eyeing him warmly and reminding Craig of earlier in the truck, he realized that Kenny hadn’t been taken aback Craig saying that his work was good. It was the _ pet name_. Craig nearly laughed, stopping only when he remembered that he’d have to explain himself. He tucked that bit of information away for personal use and walked to the front desk with Kenny, who paid the server standing there. 

The movie theatre was only a block away, but the temperature was in the single digits, and the wind chill put it well into the negatives, so they hopped in Kenny’s truck and shivered their way down the street. They were early to the film, but it left them time to curl quietly around one another and try not to fall asleep. They sat in the very back corner, dimly lit and hidden from the throngs of people that filed in some ten minutes after they had taken their seats. Kenny shoved the armrest up between the seats and tucked his legs up, nudging himself under Craig’s arm and cuddling against him. The theatre was a little chilly, and Craig welcomed the body heat. He tugged Kenny as close as he could get him and ignored the whispers of a few younger students several aisles over. 

The film was honestly terrible. Craig wasn’t a critic; he watched movies to enjoy them, not to pick them apart and search for flaws and plot holes. But even he couldn’t ignore the fact that the film’s editing was sub-bar at best and downright choppy at worst. The acting was okay - not the worst he’d ever seen, but he expected better from A-list actors. The camera work was shaky, the effects were poor, for as minimal as they were. One man was punched and it was so painfully obvious that the fist didn’t even come close to connecting with his jaw. 

They left the movie theatre laughing, not even upset about wasting their money on only half a movie. Kenny wrapped an arm around Craig’s waist, tucking his hand into his back pocket. Craig leaned against him, throwing an arm around his shoulders. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the glare of a man only a few years older than they were. He thought it might’ve been that weird kid with the hooked nose who always wore shirts with his own face emblazoned on the front, but he didn’t look at him properly. Didn’t flip him off, didn’t give him the time of day, because Kenny was holding the hand that had been wrapped around his shoulders and gave Craig’s ass a squeeze. Craig pressed a kiss to Kenny’s temple, suddenly wishing for nothing more than to heft Kenny in his arms and kiss him senseless. His stomach flipped at the thought, and he leaned down to Kenny’s ear.

“You ready to get out of here?” he asked, threading lust into his voice.

“You ready to rail me through your bed?” Kenny asked, smirking wickedly. Craig glanced up briefly, taking stock of his surroundings. That weird hook nosed kid was still smoking his cigarette, eyeing them disdainfully. Continuing to ignore him, he forced Kenny up against the side of his truck. He pressed a thigh between Kenny’s legs and stood nearly on top of him, making their scant two inch height difference seem much more dramatic. 

“Your legs are going to be shaking so hard, you won’t be able to walk after,” Craig said, low and dark. His hooded green eyes pinned Kenny with their weighty gaze, and he felt a shudder roll through the blond before him. He leaned down and kissed Kenny’s lower lip.

“Promise?” Kenny asked, a little mumble between Craig’s lips. 

“Anything you want,” Craig murmured, nipping at Kenny’s lip and cupping his ass, both hands squeezing so hard that a knuckle in his fingers cracked. A moan rippled up from Kenny’s throat and Craig claimed it, swallowed it with a hot kiss. 

“You,” Kenny gasped. He clutched at Craig’s face, holding him in place as he thrust up against him, hard and eager already. “I want you, however you wanna give it t’me.” Craig leaned into him, grinding against him. Craig was rock solid in his jeans, so thoroughly aroused that it hurt so deliciously. Watching Kenny’s unique brand of confidence liquefy and take a different form was intoxicating - he was still self assured, but now that he was going to be the one getting fucked, he was needy and submissive in a way that made Craig’s stomach bottom out. He felt protective suddenly, like some sort of gruff machismo had been lying dormant and waiting to come out and take control. He felt ten feet tall and bulletproof, like he could punch his way through a platoon of Green Berets. Since there were no special-ops agents around that he could pummel, he settled for bending his knees and sliding his hands down to mid-thigh, then standing and bringing Kenny with him. 

“_Oh_,” Kenny whispered, immediately wrapping his legs around Craig’s waist, clutching at his shoulders for stability before Craig shoved him back against the truck and kissed him fiercely. He massaged the backs of Kenny’s thighs as he dug his tongue into his mouth, eating up the little noises Kenny was making. He inched his hands up to Kenny’s ass and squeezed, earning another groan from his boyfriend. He could feel Kenny’s cock pressing hard against his stomach and he felt weak, so weak and eager. He hadn’t realized just how badly he wanted to see Kenny on the receiving end until he’d mentioned it earlier that week; Craig hadn’t been able to get it out of his head since then. He gave a little thrust of his hips, the tip of his cock in his jeans just brushing against Kenny’s ass, and they both groaned. “C’mon, take me back to your place,” Kenny mumbled against his lips. Craig chuckled.

“You’re the one driving.” He settled Kenny back on the ground regretfully, though he did slide his palm over Kenny’s clothed erection, causing him to groan and drop his head onto Craig’s shoulder. “So take me back to my place.” He wanted to tack on something about Kenny’s dick, but he just couldn’t muster up the balls to do it. Dirty talk always just made him blush furiously when he thought of using it, much as he would have wanted to try it. One thing he could do, though, was soft pet names. “Let’s go, baby.” 

A full body shudder rolled through Kenny and his eyelids fluttered, his hands clutching at Craig’s waist. Craig smirked, dipping his head down to kiss Kenny’s neck, thoroughly pleased with his reaction. Craig kissed his way up Kenny’s jawline and back over to his lips, keeping his eyes open to soak in Kenny’s face. He must have sensed that he was being watched, because his blue eyes blinked open, looking dazed and mildly accusatory, like some great secret had been discovered. Craig's own eyes crinkled in amusement and he sucked on Kenny's lower lip. He moved his hand from Kenny's crotch to his pocket and withdrew his keys, bringing them up to dangle beside their faces. 

Kenny snatched them out of the air and they scrambled into his truck, grinning and eager. They were still hard, and Kenny threw the truck into drive and squealed wheels tearing out of the parking lot. Craig settled his left hand on Kenny's dick as he drove; he contemplated sliding over and giving him a hummer, but the roads were honestly too icy for that kind of play. He settled for stroking his fingertips over the hard outline of his cock instead. Kenny was biting his lip and his brow was furrowed, breath coming in rough pants, but he managed to stay focused on the road. 

He parked sloppily in Craig's driveway, throwing the truck door open and grabbing Craig's hand to drag him across the bench seat and out the driver's side. Craig smirked, digging his house keys out and jamming them into the lock. They stumbled into the house and slammed the door shut behind them, and Craig wasted no time in shoving Kenny up against the door and kissing him forcefully. Kenny reacted with equal fervor, digging his fingers into Craig's hair and dragging his face down to be kissed thoroughly, hot and hard and messy. Their teeth clicked together briefly before Craig latched onto his lower lip and bit down. Kenny whined low in his throat, and Craig felt the last bits of his self control chipping away from him like old paint. He wanted to claw at Kenny, bite him hard enough to leave a mark that would linger for weeks, tug his hair back sharply to nip at his neck. But he had to know if that’s what Kenny wanted, too. 

“You still want it hard?” 

“Fuck, yes, _ please_,” Kenny murmured, less of a request and more an exhalation of personal excitement. Consent is a sexy thing, and in that moment, Kenny had maybe never been more attractive to him. Craig gripped Kenny’s waist hard and Kenny twitched against him, his eyelids fluttering. Craig pulled them away from the door and whispered for Kenny to move to his room. Kenny shimmied out of his embrace and quickly shucked his coat, then the flannel, and then stripped the black t-shirt from his body. 

“When I get my own place, I’m gonna fuck you on my couch,” Kenny said, standing bare chested in Craig’s living room. He toed off his boots and hooked a thumb in the waistband of his tight black jeans. He glanced up at Craig through the fringe of his thick, wavy blond hair. His lips were kiss swollen and shiny, and there was a stain of red creeping down his neck. Craig wanted to eat him whole.

“You’re gonna have a couch? Fancy.”

Kenny smirked at him, looking more sultry and seductive than any siren could have ever hoped to be. He popped the button on his jeans, inching them down his hips and allowing his thick erection to bob free. He stepped out of his pants and socks and took the four steps to stand toe to toe with Craig. He was fully nude, standing in Craig’s living room without a shred of shame or clothing. Craig knew that a fuse must have snapped in his head, because he was completely unable to move. He wanted to reach out and put his hand on Kenny’s slim, pale hip, but his brain wasn’t sending any messages to his arm. In fact, the only thing that seemed to be floating through his head was the verbal equivalent of a pile of drool, and maybe that whistling wolf from Looney Toons.

“Or maybe I’ll skip the couch and just sit on your face,” Kenny suggested. Craig swore he heard the old Windows XP startup sound in his head as his brain effectively shut down and rebooted. He only found himself able to move after Kenny leaned up and placed an almost chaste kiss on his chin. The feeling of needing to devour Kenny hadn’t abated, and in order to satiate that need, he pulled Kenny’s nude body against his own fully clothed one and claimed his lips once more. He licked into Kenny’s mouth and backed him against a wall. Kenny arched against him, the wall almost cold, gasping into his mouth as Craig reached down and grabbed two handfuls of his ass and squeezed ungently. 

“Upstairs, you heathen,” Craig whispered. Kenny nipped at his lips and smirked playfully before turning and ascending the stairs, somehow making even that look sensual. Craig really, really wanted to lean down and bite into Kenny’s taut ass, but he somehow felt like eating ass, in any capacity, should be saved for somewhere down the line, when it hadn’t just been a month in. Maybe that made him old fashioned, or maybe he was just shy. It didn’t stop him from reaching out and laying a sound slap to one cheek, though. Kenny turned and gave him a heated look, and at first Craig thought he might’ve done something wrong, but when he reached the top of the stairs and Kenny all but climbed on top of him, he didn’t have any doubts. 

Kenny grabbed at Craig’s shirt and tugged it from his body, tossing it in the hall as they backed up to Craig’s room. They kissed and crashed into the door, startling the guinea pigs and setting them to squealing. Feeling frenzied and hot, Craig grabbed roughly at Kenny’s hips and thrust against him; Kenny retaliated with a moan, shoving him into his desk and nipping at his neck. His hands went to the button of Craig’s jeans, deftly unbuttoning them and dragging the zipper down before reaching inside to squeeze his erection. Craig groaned, his head falling back before he fisted a hand in Kenny’s blond hair and tugged their mouths together again. Kenny loosed a loud moan at the pressure on his scalp and Craig filed that away for later use. He used the grip on Kenny's hair to pull their mouths apart, and they panted wetly against one another for half a moment before Craig gave Kenny a shove and watched him fall back onto his bed. The thick blue comforter was crumpled and messy because Craig didn't believe in making his bed, and it seemed to embrace Kenny as he settled back in it. Kenny ran a hand through his hair to brush it back from his face, bent one leg at the knee to frame his leaking erection, and sent Craig a sultry look. He crooked two fingers at Craig, beckoning him, inviting him, and Craig went willingly, eagerly. Craig fell upon him, kissing him forcefully and pressing him into the bed. He put his hands on Kenny's shoulders and pressed hard, indicating that Kenny should stay put. Craig stood and slowly thumbed his jeans down his narrow hips, his eyes not leaving Kenny's face. Kenny broke eye contact first, blue eyes trailing down Craig's body to stare blatantly at his cock as it bobbed free from his jeans. He stepped out of his jeans and socks and stood over Kenny, his eyes lidded and dark.

"God, you're…" Kenny began. He paused to put a hand around his cock, his eyes never leaving Craig but roaming across his body. "You're fucking gorgeous." He extended his free hand to Craig, who found his body moving automatically. Is this what instinct really was - moving to hover over a starry eyed blond in his bed, leaning down to kiss him fiercely? If it was, then Craig would never doubt his instincts again. He kissed down Kenny’s chin, then over his Adam’s apple and collarbone, trailing further across his chest. He paused at a nipple, licking over it softly before taking it between his teeth and rolling it, causing Kenny to buck upwards and cry out. Fingers clawed at his back, blunt nails biting into his skin and raking lines down to his ribcage. He kissed at the small, dusky bud before kissing his way across Kenny’s chest to offer the same worship to its twin. He adored the way Kenny squirmed and writhed beneath him, his cock brushing against Craig’s abdomen and smearing precome across his skin. He could feel Kenny’s cock twitching with every kiss he placed, and he began to work his way down his body, kissing his way south.

Kenny groped around on Craig’s nightstand for the bottle of lube, and he threw it down at him. Craig chuckled, reaching for it but setting it aside, out of Kenny’s reach. He put his lips to Kenny’s cock and gave it a chaste kiss. 

“Let me enjoy this first,” Craig said, his voice thick and deep with lust. He took the head of Kenny’s cock into his mouth and gave it a little suck, working his tongue around it to collect the precome there and coat it liberally with saliva. He worked it further into his mouth, his lips stretching obscenely over the length of it. When it was fully soaked, he wrapped his fist around the base and stroked upward, his fist chasing his lips so that the sensation never stopped. Kenny groaned lowly, flexing his hips up to press deeper into Craig’s mouth. 

Craig let him thrust shallowly into his mouth, thinking that he wouldn’t mind training himself to let his throat be fucked. He twisted his wrist on the downstroke, followed by his mouth as he sucked hard, and he drank in the sounds of Kenny sighing and groaning above him. Minding his teeth, he hollowed his cheeks and set a fast pace, his fist and his mouth working in tandem. Craig sucked hard, then paused to tease the head of Kenny’s cock with his tongue just as he slipped one finger into him. There was enough saliva dripping over his balls and down his crack to provide enough lubrication for one of his slender fingers, and Kenny gasped and shuddered around him. Craig worked his finger in deep, his head spinning - had he been this tight when Kenny had first slipped into him? He was sure that the inside of Kenny’s body was hotter than the one time he’d stuck his finger into a boiling pot of water back in tenth grade, on a dare. As he withdrew his finger, he saw that it wasn’t blistered or red, so this couldn’t be true, but Craig couldn’t quite believe it. It was so hot, an absolute, all consuming heat and he was sure he’d be burned to cinders by the time the night was through. Kenny’s blue, blue eyes were on him as Craig slipped his finger in deeper, fire in his eyes and fire deep within.

A thought suddenly vaulted to the forefront of his mind, so much so that he nearly paused, because it had nothing to do with anal sex at all. He suddenly remembered reading that the hottest, brightest stars in the universe glowed blue.

He imagined that it was the same shade as Kenny’s eyes, and that’s why his body felt like this. 

Craig was so overcome with affection that he had to bury his face in Kenny’s groin, mouthing at the base of his cock lest he confess his love right there. It wouldn’t be a horrible thing, but he was still so hopelessly waiting for the perfect moment, convinced and confident that he’d recognize it when it came upon them. 

Forcing a the idea of a grand declaration of love while he was balls deep inside of Kenny down, he slipped a second finger in and pressed them in deep. Kenny bore down on him, gasping and groaning and sounding debauched. Craig worked them in, searching and seeking Kenny’s prostate. He knew that knot when he brushed against it, both for the feel and for the way Kenny’s body arched and he cried out. 

“There!” he gasped, clawing at the bed. Craig smirked and worked his fingers against Kenny’s prostate mercilessly, drinking in the sounds he was making and letting them get him higher than any drug could have. He licked back up the shaft of Kenny’s cock, which was leaking profusely with each brush against his prostate. He licked at it delicately, pointing his tongue and licking into the slit before stretching his lips over it and swallowing him again. Craig hollowed his cheeks and sucked, his eyes crinkling in amusement when Kenny cried out into the cold silence of his house. Kenny was alternating between thrusting shallowly into his mouth and bearing down on his fingers, which were still dancing across his prostate, and the cries that left his mouth were intoxicating and heady. 

“Fuck, stop, I’m gonna come,” Kenny warned, reaching down to try and pull Craig off. Craig just shook his head, mouth full of cock, smirking as best he could before he began to hammer his fingers in and out of Kenny’s hole. He sucked hard and watched Kenny’s starfire bright eyes roll back in his head before his face dropped out of sight. There was one last, strangled cry of an indeterminable curse word, and then heat was flooding Craig’s mouth. It hit the back of the roof of his mouth and he swallowed instinctively, closing his eyes and suckling at the cock in his mouth as Kenny’s hole clamped down on his fingers, the muscles fluttering around the digits even as he continued to gently massage Kenny’s prostate. Kenny moaned, his hips oscillating as the last pulses of his orgasm were emptied into Craig’s mouth. 

Craig gave Kenny’s cock one final, gentle suckle before he pulled off with a lick to the head and eased his fingers from his hole. He lifted himself up Kenny’s body and gave him a kiss, a quick, chaste thing that Kenny struggled to reciprocate as he panted heavily in post orgasmic bliss. Smirking to himself, pleased beyond measure, he picked up the lube and made his way back down Kenny’s body. Pouring some out onto his fingers, he slipped two of them back into his body. Kenny moaned, bending one leg and spreading himself for Craig. After his orgasm, he was far more loose and he relaxed easily around a third finger. Craig pressed against the ring of muscle, stretching him and spreading his fingers to prepare him for the rest of their night. He smeared the lube messily around Kenny’s hole and within, coating in excess. 

“Mm, I’m good,” Kenny murmured after a moment or two of pampering, flexing his hips downward. His cock was beginning to twitch with interest again, and Craig loved the refractory period of teenage boys. He withdrew his fingers, but not before pressing in deep again and brushing once more across Kenny's abused prostate. He jolted, crying out with a whimper. 

"Condom?" Craig asked. Kenny picked his head up, looking disheveled and wild and happy.

"Fuck no, fill me up," he said, lewd and shameless. Craig fought down a blush and grabbed up the lube again. They both used condoms when they fucked during their free period in school, because the cleanup wasn't something they had the means to deal with properly in those soundproof rooms. On the weekends, though, when they could manage some peace and quiet, they had no need for being neat. Craig wanted to make a mess out of the beautiful boy beneath him. He lowered a slick hand to his neglected cock and spread the lube over it, staring down at Kenny as he stroked himself. Kenny bit his lip and lifted one long leg to drape it over Craig's shoulder. One of his hands loosely wrapped around his cock to stroke it lazily as he eyed Craig with a lusty, desirous gaze. Craig felt attractive and powerful, which was a new thing Kenny had introduced him to. He was aware of his face, though he'd never put much effort into looking good. He wore what he liked, and what was comfortable. His clothes were his security.

Kneeling nude before Kenny, he had no security blankets to hide behind. No hat, no hoodie, no ancient Converse, and yet he had never felt more wanted or craved or needed. He felt like he really was the king of the new year, with the way Kenny was staring at him. He was desired, his body and his mind and his emotions were all wanted and validated by Kenny's gaze. 

He shuffled closer on his knees and pulled Kenny close to him, taking his cock in hand and lining it up with Kenny’s hole. He inched forward, pressing in gently until the head of his cock, aching and nearly purple with need, popped past the muscle and slipped within. Kenny groaned, his head falling back to the side and gripping tightly at the blankets. 

“You okay?” Craig asked, his voice sounding winded and breathless to his own ears. Kenny picked his head up and beamed at him.

“‘M fuckin’ perfect,” he slurred, reaching one hand out for Craig, beckoning him near. Craig went, helpless against Kenny’s desires, and leaned forward to kiss him. Kenny hummed, and maybe they could have been words, if Craig had been able to concentrate on much more than the fire currently consuming the head of his cock. Craig slowly pushed forward and Kenny hummed and keened under his breath, lifting his hips helpfully. Craig twisted his head to the side and kissed Kenny’s knee, just as Kenny had done to him that first time. 

He kept going until he felt his hips connect with Kenny’s ass and then he was balls deep in him and everything around him was on fire. His dick was hotter than hell and the heat was spreading, threatening to consume him entirely if he didn’t pull out and move soon. Kenny hitched his free leg around Craig’s thigh and tugged him closer and Craig felt bowled over for how much he loved that little gesture. It was a soft affection in the middle of their dirty heat, it grounded him, brought his head out of his dick for a minute and reminded him that half of the reason this all felt so good was because it was _ Kenny _. Sex had never been this consuming or desperate for him before; good? Yes. Blinding? No. 

He supposed blind is what he got when he stared into a star. 

“You are,” Craig murmured, kissing at Kenny’s jaw. “You’re perfect.” Kenny snorted like he didn’t believe him, but the noise quickly turned into a gasp when Craig gave an experimental thrust. It had been a while since he’d topped anyone, and he wanted to find the perfect rhythm. He pulled back and thrust back in, slow and deep, drawing a groan out of Kenny’s throat. He fucked him slowly, his thrusts deep and powerful, and Kenny was beginning to thrash beneath him, whimpering and gasping and begging him to go faster. Craig wrapped his hand around Kenny’s cock and stroked it until it was rock solid and leaking once more. Kenny looked up at him with dewy blue eyes, panting hard as Craig struck at his prostate with the head of his cock. 

“I think I promised to wreck you,” Craig said, his voice a panted whisper. Kenny grinned around his harsh breathing.

“Yeah, you did.” 

“Flip over,” Craig said, bringing his hand down for a light slap on Kenny’s ass. Biting his lip, Kenny brought his leg down from Craig’s shoulder and scooted backward on the bed, just far enough for Craig to slip out of him. 

“This is hot, Tucker,” Kenny hummed as he flipped up onto his hands and knees. He pressed back and spread his legs, and Craig tugged on his ass until his hole was exposed, twitching in a little wink and dripping with lube. Craig groaned, his thumb dipping down to slip just inside, to thrust in and tug at the muscle lewdly.

“God, you have no idea,” he whispered, “how good you look like this.” He walked forward on his knees and pressed his cock back into Kenny, obsessed with the heat that once again surrounded him. He slid in smoothly, his hips connecting with Kenny’s ass in short order. “You ready for this?” he asked as he placed his hands on Kenny’s narrow hips, adjusting his grip. Kenny shuffled about on his hands, and then he gave one little bounce back onto Craig’s cock. 

“Come on, baby,” Kenny said breathlessly. He flexed his fingers in the sheets. “Tap into all that repressed Tucker rage and ruin me.” Amused, Craig rolled his eyes and gave one sharp thrust.

“Ruin you for everyone but me,” he muttered, digging his fingers into Kenny’s waist. He leaned down and licked up the back of Kenny’s neck and placed a gentle kiss there before withdrawing. He snapped his hips forward and tugged Kenny back by the grip on his hips. Kenny cried out and began to shove himself back into each thrust, the muscles in his back tensing with the force. Craig drilled into him, his fingers digging in hard enough to bruise and his hips pummeling forward roughly. Kenny keened below him, his head hanging low and his ass rocking back into Craig's thrusts with remarkable consistency. The heat around Craig's cock was overwhelming and intense and dizzying, and he had to forcibly put his mind elsewhere. He couldn't concentrate on the heat or on anything but giving Kenny the ride of his young life, or he'd blow his load before he even got started. He tilted his head back and focused on snapping his hips into Kenny had hard and fast as he possibly could. 

Kenny was alive beneath him, whimpering and moaning and gasping his pleasure. His ass jiggled enticingly with each thrust and his whole body moved as he rocked backwards. Craig knew he'd struck prostate gold when Kenny threw his head back and screamed, a breathy thing that scratched at something primal and deeply masculine in Craig. He groaned and snapped his hips forward, seeking that trigger point within Kenny again and finding it, angling his thrusts so that he was striking it as often as he could. His thrusts were hard to the point of probable bruising on his own hips and sore muscles in his entire lower body. 

"M-my hair," Kenny slurred, tilting his head back toward Craig. "Pull it." 

His mind too hazy to even question if this is what Kenny really wanted, Craig reached up and threaded his fingers into Kenny's thick blond waves, twisting the strands around his fingers and giving them a sharp tug.

"Ah! Yes!" Kenny cried out, his hips faltering in their backward thrusts. Craig paused his relentless thrusting to grind into Kenny, leaning down to kiss him, dirty and sloppy and wet, smearing saliva all over their mouths and not caring in the slightest. He straightened and gave Kenny's hair another yank, resuming his brutal pace once more. The obscene sound of sweaty skin slapping together was driving Craig into a frenzy, and he had to once again think of anything but the tight, wet heat of Kenny’s ass around his dick. He could feel a drop of sweat working down the curve of his spine, and Kenny’s back and throat glistened with it, making every freckle stand out like a star. 

He thrust into him with ruthless abandon, tugging back on Kenny’s hair every so often. Kenny shouted every time his hair was pulled and it only drove Craig to pound into him harder. It didn’t take long until Kenny’s arms gave out and he collapsed onto his elbows, moaning into Craig’s pillow as the new angle allowed Craig to push into him harder and sink into his prostate with greater frequency than before. Propped up on one elbow with his head still forced back by Craig’s grip on his hair, he watched as Kenny settled a hand on his cock and whimpered pitifully as he closed his fist around it. He was still rocking back into Craig’s vicious thrusts, and now his fist was sliding across his cock, twisting at the head and spreading precome down the length of it. 

“God, _ yes_,” Kenny gasped, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he cried out uselessly. “Harder, please,” he begged. Craig didn’t know if he meant his hold on his hair or the rhythm of the cock in his ass, but he decided that he’d get both. With a soft growl, Craig yanked hard on Kenny’s hair and somehow found the strength to thrust into him harder. Kenny mewled, happy and fucked out, his hips finally stuttering in their rhythm so much that he stopped fucking back and simply let himself get fucked. Craig was moaning now, low and soft, a continuous loop of pleasure interrupted by shuddering breaths that his lungs screamed for. Sweat covered him, tickling the backs of his knees and dripping down his neck, but he barely registered anything but the need to continue to batter into Kenny. 

“That’s it, that’s it,” Kenny chanted, his fist working furiously over the head of his cock. “There, there, there, _ oh_, shit-” Craig watched, enraptured and captivated, as the muscles in Kenny’s back seized as his orgasm rippled through him. He released his hold on Kenny’s hair and slid his hand down to his neck, holding him gently as Kenny came into his hand, moaning and shaking. Craig paused in his movements to stare at the work of art that is Kenny’s O-face and to focus on the way his fluttering hole squeezed the life out of his dick. The muscles contracted and constricted and it was exactly how he wanted to spend the rest of his life. 

When Kenny sighed and his body went nearly limp, Craig slid his hand down Kenny’s sweaty back and grasped at his hips again, then went back to hammering into him, chasing his own orgasm. Kenny cried out as his overstimulated prostate was battered at like a punching bag. He twisted his head back to look at Craig, and then brought his come soaked fingers up to his mouth and began to lick them clean. His pale, freckled cheeks were flushed, a sheen of sweat covered him, and his blue eyes were bright as those far flung stars as his tongue slid around his fingers, catching the warm come and drawing it back into his hot little mouth. 

“Fuck, oh, _ fuck, babe_,” Craig groaned, finally allowing himself to tip over that precipice and into nirvana. He felt his nerves coalesce in a pinwheel of fire, starting in his groin and slowly pushing up into his stomach before bursting like the fireworks they’d watched on New Years Eve. Heat and little cinders, hot like the ash from his cigarettes, flooded him, squeezing the air from his lungs in the form of a ragged, wet gasp as he pressed his cock in as deep as it would go, the first jet of come painting Kenny’s insides in white. He moaned with each pulse and swore when Kenny purposefully clenched around him. He felt sparks and stars behind his eyes that looked suspiciously like Kenny’s freckles, and he thought they’d be burned into the backs of his eyelids with how fiercely he felt them. He snapped his hips deeply, slowly, until the last few pulses of his cock tapered off to a weak twitch. He slumped over Kenny and tipped them both to the side, though he slipped out in the process. Craig gently pet the back of Kenny’s head, where he’d been yanking at his hair, and pressed a kiss to the side of his neck.

“You okay?” he murmured. Kenny hummed, squirming back until they were pressed back to chest.

“Very, very okay,” he sighed. Craig flirted a hand down Kenny’s side, pausing when he saw the bruises already starting to form on his hips, and he instantly felt bad about them. 

“Sorry about this,” Craig said, wishing his hands were cooler so he could soothe them over the bruises. Kenny shifted his head around so he could peer down his body.

“Don’t be. I like these bruises.” _ As opposed to the other kind_, went unsaid. “Maybe when I’m in class next week, I’ll touch one and pop a hard-on.” Craig sighed and tucked his head between Kenny’s shoulder blades, which were shaking slightly in laughter. Craig knew he should feel a little embarrassed about that, but he couldn’t repress the smile that crept across his face. 

“You won’t be able to sit through class with a party in your pants and you know it,” he said, playfully accusatory. Kenny picked one of his legs up and reached back with it, drawing Craig’s leg between his. 

“Of course I can’t. I’d come get you and we’d ditch for the day. There’s a clubhouse or eight in the neighbourhood we can shack up in,” he said pragmatically. Craig wound an arm around Kenny, mindful of his bruises, and spread a palm across his pale chest. 

“It’s a date. I’ll bring snacks and we can bang in Clyde’s clubhouse,” he said. Kenny hummed contentedly, snuggling back into Craig’s chest. 

“Wake me up in an hour, I’m gonna ride you,” he murmured, his voice already sounding heavy with sleep. Craig didn't know if he'd have the heart to wake Kenny from slumber — the boy was downright angelic in sleep, if a bit of an octopus. But then the image of Kenny atop him, straddling him like a throne, riding him viciously, sent a flutter of heat through him. Craig adjusted his grip around him, burying his face into his neck and letting his head rest against Kenny's jaw as he dozed off for a nap. 

They'd be up again in a few hours; it was only half past seven, and they had all night. His parents wouldn't be home until late afternoon tomorrow, and full advantage would be taken. Maybe even on the kitchen table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all don't even know how much fun it was to write bottom kenny. let my boi get dicked down.


	11. Saying Nothing, That's Enough for Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I want to touch the northern lights  
We could leave the world behind  
I wanna know what it's like  
To walk away from this life"  
\- _Jaymes Young, Northern Lights_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you or someone you know is suffering from domestic abuse or substance abuse, or you suspect that they are. Please reach out. You are not alone, and you are loved.  
[National Domestic Violence Hotline Website](https://www.thehotline.org/) :: 1-800-799-7233  
[Substance Abuse and Mental Health Administration Hotline Website](https://www.samhsa.gov/) :: 1-800-662-HELP (4357)

Craig saw the prom poster at the same time Kenny did, and he suddenly felt like he'd swallowed a frozen block of lead.

"Please tell me we're not going to prom."

"Will you go to prom with me?"

Craig stared flatly at Kenny, his lips pursed as his boyfriend grinned wolfishly at him. 

"No," Craig said, turning away from Kenny and the poster and walking down the hallway. It was their free period, and they were heading toward those soundproof music rooms to take advantage before the spring choir started. He heard Kenny laugh behind him as he ran to catch up.

"Why not?" Craig rolled his eyes.

"Prom is a disaster. I remember the story of your brother getting into a fight with guys from three different schools at his junior prom. Hard pass.”

“Aw, that was  _ junior _ prom. Senior prom is a whole new world,” Kenny crooned. Craig fought back a cringe, despite the fact that listening to Kenny sing was one of his favourite things to do. “Look, no one will expect us to go to prom, because we’re natural born rebels.” Craig scoffed. “So we keep quiet about the whole thing or tell people we aren’t going, then we bust through the doors like Kuzco.” He did a little shimmy next to Craig. “We’d be the talk of the night, might even win prom king and king!”

“I don’t think that’s the way it works.”

“Did I mention that it’s also my birthday weekend?” 

“This is extortion.” 

“Please?” 

Craig shoved open the door to the practice room and turned to look at Kenny, who was batting his eyelashes up through the thick fringe of his blond bangs and looking devastatingly handsome while doing so. Craig couldn’t lie — it would be pretty cool to let everyone think they weren’t going, only to show up in the thick of things like they owned the place. He could sneak a flask in, dance with Kenny, dip him low and kiss him under the lights. Dethrone Stan and Kyle as the year’s power couple, even if Kyle was a little intimidating. 

He’d given in before he had the chance to protest further.

Kenny hummed happily, wrapping his arms around his waist and kissing him sweetly, a smile on his face. His kisses were chaste little pecks that eventually drew a smile from Craig. He threaded his fingers into Kenny's blond hair and swiped his thumbs over his cheeks, staring straight into blue eyes and seriously contemplating telling him he loved him then and there. But now that they were going to prom together, he decided that would be the moment. In brief milliseconds, he'd formed a plan, one that had him biting back a smile. He and Kenny would get ready at his house, fix each other's tuxedos, adjust ties, which would be a blue complementary to Kenny's gorgeous eyes. They'd take a few selfies together, and just as they're snapping one, maybe of Craig leaning in and planting a kiss on Kenny's cheek, he'd whisper his love and capture Kenny's face at the moment he hears it. 

He leaned in and kissed Kenny in the doorway to the practice room, smiling to himself, feeling clever and smug about the whole thing. It was a good plan. Kenny dug his fingers into his waist and nipped at his lower lip, preparing to deepen the kiss. Craig pushed his hands back to cradle Kenny’s head, pulling him back into the room when a voice interrupted them. 

“I hate to interrupt,” the voice said, soft and feminine, “but Stan told me where to find you.” Craig pulled back abruptly and they both turned to see Karen standing at the end of the hallway, looking somewhat amused. Kenny grinned at his little sister, unsubtly wiping at his lip with his thumb before stepping back from Craig just a bit. 

“What’s up, squirt?” he asked. Karen shrugged. 

“They called my class and asked me to come to the office. They want you too, but they couldn’t find you,” she said. “Don’t know what it’s about.” Kenny’s face darkened with a frown and he rolled his eyes.

“Stuart probably got arrested again,” he sighed. “You’d think they’d know by now to just let us finish the school day and I’ll be around to pick him up later.” Kenny turned back to Craig with an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, I —”

“Go,” Craig said, leaning forward to brush a chaste kiss against Kenny’s lips. “Trish and I can walk home.” Kenny furrowed his brow, looking petulant.

“It’s freezing out,” he argued.

“I grew up here, remember?” Craig flicked his forehead. “We’ll catch the bus. Deal with things and text me later, yeah?” It didn’t take long for Kenny to smile up at him, and Craig warmed at the sight. Sure, he was a little put out that his plans had been interrupted, but he also knew that Kenny had to deal with his father. So Kenny kissed his lips in thanks, groped his ass once, and then picked up his bag and left with Karen, slinging an arm around his sister’s shoulders.

Kenny had always put family first, though he didn’t hold to the traditional, conservative views of family that the adults in town generally did. He believed in family first, but had told Craig, during one of their gymnasium conversations, that his father had stopped being family a long time ago. He didn’t believe in loving abusive people, he said. Craig couldn’t blame him. Craig had gotten his ass busted as a kid once or twice, and his mom had popped him on the mouth with the back of her hand a few times for back-talk, but they’d never abused him, not the way Stuart went after his youngest son. Kenny shouldered it all, though, protecting Karen and his mother, when she was coherent, from Stuart's intoxicated bouts of aggression. They didn't talk much about it, but Kenny had come over more than once almost immediately after he left, sometimes with Karen in tow, sporting a new bruise or scraped knuckles. 

Craig hated Kenny's father, and hoped that he _ was _ in jail again, for fucking _ murder _ or something so that no one would bail his deadass out. 

Shouldering his bag, he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his coat pocket and set out for the roof, knowing that Kenny would come find him if he decided to let his father moulder in jail for a night or two. He dropped his bag down and made his way over to the ledge, his boots crunching the snow covered gravel. Wind had blown the snow off the ledge, and he sat down on it, dangling his legs over. He lit his cigarette and inhaled, and thought of prom. 

Tuxedos were unfairly expensive to buy, so they’d rent them — maybe they’d make a day of it in Denver, visit Kevin, get their suits fitted, go out to dinner. Craig knew he wanted a vest under his jacket, and wondered if Kenny would go for one, too. The thought of Kenny shedding his jacket to dance in his vest and slacks was enough to make Craig’s stomach flip pleasantly. A skinny necktie, maybe, in a blue that would make Kenny’s eyes take everyone’s breath away. In a blue that would match Kenny’s eyes so closely that there would be no doubt who those eyes would be on all night long. He could buy Kenny a beautiful blue and orange boutonniere and help his mother check off “cry while taking pictures of first-born going to prom with his date” from a list he was positive she kept. He’d stand for pictures partially because Kenny would ham it up, and partly to appease his mother and give her something to put on the mantle, and maybe even a little bit because it was a deeply buried romantic dream of his.

Halfway through his disaster of a relationship with Thomas, he’d given up on his sappy romantic dream of going to prom and swaying gently with a boy he liked. Between the constant arguing and his eventual disinterest in the relationship, he didn’t really have any faith in prom even being on the table, let alone being able to go with someone. 

Someone being Kenny McCormick, of all people.

The redneck, the poor kid, the slut, the drug addict, the drug dealer, the degenerate. So they said.

The hard worker, the breadwinner, the generously kind soul, the nerd, the romantic, the boy he loved. 

Craig ran a hand down his face, trying not to grin to himself like a fool. He was _ happy_, happy in a way he didn’t think he’d get to be again. Of course, this was all very dramatic thinking, since he’d only just turned eighteen a few weeks ago. But in his small world of South Park, being seventeen and in a loveless, borderline abusive relationship was the end times, as far as the teenagers were concerned. Now that was a thing of the past; he had Kenny, and Kenny had him, and they were talking about turning twenty-one together. It was a lot, he knew, to expect of a high school relationship, especially since he hadn’t even managed to pluck up the courage to tell Kenny he loved him yet. There was just something in the way Kenny looked at him, held him, smiled at him that made him believe that they’d be doing all of this three years from now. 

He stubbed out his cigarette, which had mostly ashed, forgotten, and looked out across the car park. Kenny’s truck was parked in the back lot, so that he wouldn’t risk scraping up anyone else’s car with the plow. He stared at it fondly, warmth growing in his stomach as he recalled the way Kenny had crawled atop him and kissed him senseless back in November. His own surprise at the kiss hadn’t detracted from it at all, and he wished he could go back and relive it over and over. Kenny’s slightly chapped lips on his and his bony knees on either side of his waist had been a revelation to Craig that hadn't known how badly he needed. 

He was so engrossed in his memories of their first kiss and subsequent makeout session that he startled a bit when he saw two figures dashing across the car park to stand beside Kenny's truck. It was Kenny and Karen, and when they got to the truck, Karen paused and threw herself at her brother, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her head into his chest. Kenny looked pained as he held his sister, worry lining his face as he smoothed her hair down. He kissed the top of her head and gestured for her to get into the truck. Karen nodded tearfully and did so, and Kenny turned away from his sister's field of vision to wipe at his eyes and nose. Craig watched him pull out his phone and text something rapidly. A few seconds later, Craig's phone was vibrating in his pocket and he scrambled to dig it out, his eyes not leaving Kenny. His boyfriend was already on the phone, calling someone else and climbing into the driver's seat of his truck. 

Craig read the text, and his stomach dropped. 

He scrambled back from the edge of the roof and stumbled to his feet, grabbing his bag as he stormed back into the school. The final period of the day was a study hall for seniors, but Kyle had both the debate team and a pre-college program to fill his time with. Stan often sat with him, so Craig made toward the debate room, all but sprinting. He looked in the room before he entered, and found Kyle and Wendy seated beside one another bent over a spread of papers; Stan sat on Kyle's opposite side, reading a book. 

Craig entered the room, sidling along the wall so he wouldn't disturb anyone. Stan looked up first, a smile on his face until he saw the stress that was undoubtedly painted all over Craig's. He touched Kyle's elbow gently, and Kyle slid his eyes over to Stan before he looked up at Craig. For a moment, a detached part of Craig admired the silent communication that went on between the two of them; being best friends since birth had granted them that ability long before they'd begun dating, but it complimented them well now. Kyle furrowed his brow at Craig, snapping him out of his introspective observations about his friends. 

"Where's Kenny?" Stan asked, impressing Craig a bit with his intuitiveness. 

“On his way to the hospital,” Craig said quietly. “It’s his mom. Can I get a ride home?” As soon as the word ‘hospital’ left Craig’s mouth, Stan was on his feet, shoving his book into his bag. 

“I’ll give Kyle a ride home,” Wendy said immediately, and Stan shot her a grateful look. 

“And I’ll meet you at you at yours later,” Kyle said, reaching up for the kiss Stan dropped down onto his lips as he shouldered his bag. “Keep me updated,” he added, looking over to Craig. He nodded once and led Stan from the room, and the two of them hurried out of the school. Craig was silent and tense as they walked to Stan’s car, and in short order they were peeling out of the parking lot. Everything had happened so fast, Craig’s mind was spinning at a hundred miles an hour, that when Stan spoke, his voice snapped Craig out of a stupour.

“So it’s his mom this time?” Stan asked. Craig looked over at him, blinking in surprise. “She OD’d, didn’t she?” 

“Yeah,” Craig said. His voice sounded harsh to his own ears. “Is this a… a common thing with his parents?” Stan shrugged.

“Once a year or so. It’s usually his dad, and him and Karen are kind of used to Stuart ending up in the ER and needing his stomach pumped or NARCAN shoved up his nose,” Stan said, frowning in distaste. “I don’t think he even likes his dad at this point. You’ve seen the bruises,” he said quietly. Craig nodded. He didn’t like Stuart either. “But he loves his mom.”

“Did he tell you that he wants to move out when he turns eighteen?” Craig asked. 

“Yeah, he did,” Stan said, smiling softly. “I hope he does. His parents were never equipped to raise any kids, let alone three of them. I think he’ll still talk to his mom, but he might never talk to Stuart again.”

“Good.” Like Stan said, they’d all seen the bruises. Kenny’s father wasn’t a kind man when he was inebriated, and he was hardly ever sober. They lapsed into silence as Stan turned onto his street, and he kept his phone in his hands, silent and dark though it remained. When Stan pulled up at the curb, Craig looked over at him. “I owe you one.” Stan waved it off.

“Just keep me posted, and let me know if Kenny wants company later,” he said. They bumped fists and Craig grabbed his bag and left Stan, who turned around in the middle of the road and sped off back in the direction of school, maybe to see if Kyle was still there. Craig fumbled to unlock his front door, seeking out his father immediately.

“Dad, can I borrow the car?” Craig shouted into the house, dropping his bag unceremoniously by the coat rack. His father appeared in the archway to the kitchen, a beer in one hand and a swiss cake roll in the other. He was still chewing, so Craig charged on. “Kenny’s mom’s in the hospital and him and Karen left early and I want to be with him.” He spoke bluntly, worry making him more honest with his father than he would have normally been. His father’s expression softened, his eyebrows knitting together. 

“Do you want a ride?” he asked. Craig bit his lip.

“I don’t know. I don’t know if Kenny and Karen want a bunch of people there, you know?” He realized this was probably the most he’d spoken to his father all week. Not out of anger, of course, but just because he didn’t have much to say. His throat suddenly felt tight with emotion. “I don’t even know if they want me there, but I’ve got to try something. I can’t —”

“I know, son,” Thomas said quietly. He grabbed his keys from the top of the refrigerator and walked them over to Craig. He pressed the keys into Craig’s hand and then, uncharacteristically, placed a hand on the back of Craig’s head and pulled him in to drop a kiss on the top of his head. It was on the hat he wore, but the sentiment was still there, and Craig felt like he couldn’t swallow for how swollen his throat was. Before he could think about sick parents and crying boyfriends, his arms shot out and wrapped around his dad’s middle, hugging him tight. If his father was surprised, he didn’t show it; he returned the embrace and squeezed Craig fiercely, in a way only a parent could. “You’re a good kid, Craig.” 

Considering Craig had been labeled a ‘troublemaker’ since elementary school, hearing this from his father now, on the cusp of adulthood, Craig found that it meant _ everything _ to him. He nodded into his father’s shoulder, clutching at his shirt briefly before letting go and pulling back, doing his best not to sniffle or need to wipe at his eyes. His father had no such qualms, clearing his throat and sniffing once as he squeezed Craig’s shoulders. 

“Drive safely, text me when you get there,” he said, giving Craig a little push. Craig nodded, patted his pockets for his wallet and phone, and then turned and left the house. He started up his dad’s car and carefully backed it out of the drive, summoning every ounce of self control he could muster to not floor it and speed toward the hospital like a maniac. Getting pulled over wouldn’t help Kenny at all. So he did maybe five over the posted limit and drove the whole way to the hospital with his jaw clenched, sitting forward in the seat and gripping the steering wheel hard enough that his knuckles were white and taut with tension. 

He kept the radio off, the silence ringing in his ears being enough to drown out the sound of passing cars and the roll of his tires over concrete stretches of highway. He gnawed the inside of his lip nearly bloody in his anxiety, and it was a long twenty-five minutes later before he saw the exit for the hospital. He flipped his blinker on and took it, and the hospital complex was only a mile or two down the road from there. It loomed tall and imposing in the dying light of winter, snow capped and plain faced and clinical on the outside as it was on the inside; Hell's Pass was not an inviting place by any stretch of the imagination.

A traffic light turned yellow before he got to it, and he swore as he pulled to a stop, flicking his turn signal on to turn into the hospital car park. Just as he came to a complete stop, his phone rang. He had it in a cup holder, and he scrambled to answer it — it was Kenny. He poked the screen in a rush and shoved it against his ear.

"Hey," he breathed. There was silence on the other end, punctuated by a sniffle. "Honey, I'm almost there." Kenny made a choked noise, like he was trying to clear his throat and fight back tears at once. 

"She died," Kenny whispered, his voice crackling. Craig exhaled a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding, his hand falling from the steering wheel. "They brought her back twice, but she…" He trailed off. Craig gripped his phone tightly in his hand, the gears in his mind grinding to a numbed halt. He couldn’t think of anything even mildly appropriate to say. ‘I’m so sorry’ sounded so trite and bland and overused. ‘I love you’ was off the table entirely. ‘Everything will be okay’ was a lie that held no comfort at all, because Kenny was seventeen years old, paying the family’s bills, and his mother was dead. 

A horn blared behind him — the light had turned green and he wasn’t paying any attention. He jammed on the accelerator and spun the wheel, zipping into the car park of the hospital a little quicker than he’d have liked. “I’m pulling up at the ER entrance now,” he said, guiding the car up and down the aisles, looking for a parking spot. 

“I’ll come meet you,” Kenny murmured flatly. “They won’t let you back if you’re not family without me.” The phone then beeped in his ear, signaling a disconnected call. Craig swore under his breath, whipping the car into a parking spot and throwing it into park. He yanked the keys from the ignition, tugged his hat down, and narrowly avoided slamming the door into the car next to him as he exited his vehicle while one-handedly texting his father. 

He nearly ran into more than one moving vehicle as he ran across the car park, though most people shot him sympathetic looks as he bounced away from their cars, palms out in his mad dash to the ER. He had to slow to a walk as the old sliding doors opened automatically at the pace of a tortoise, but he could see into the waiting room and he scanned it while he waited, looking for Kenny’s familiar mop of blond hair. He hurried into the ER waiting room when the doors were open enough to admit his skinny frame, and he went right past the receptionists desk and cast about for Kenny. 

The double doors at the end of a hall opened, and there stood his boyfriend, looking like he’d been run over by a truck. Kenny was looking at him, eyes red and watery but his cheeks dry, and he offered him a wan smile. Craig ran at him, barely slowing down before he collided with him, wrapping his arms around him and holding him so tightly that complaints might have arisen in any other circumstance. Kenny embraced him just as fiercely, resting his chin on Craig’s shoulder and breathing heavily in an attempt at keeping himself under control. Craig wanted to tell him that it was okay to let go, it was okay to cry, but he knew that Kenny was probably keeping it together for Karen’s sake. Craig buried his face in the hood of Kenny’s sweatshirt, gripping him harder and pulling him as close as he could, shuffling his feet until they were on either side of Kenny’s, their bodies pressed as close to an embrace as they could get while standing. 

“Kenny, I —” _ I’m sorry, oh god, I’m so sorry. I’d bring her back if I could. You shouldn’t have to go through this, I love you so much, I’m here for you, you’re not alone_.

“I know,” Kenny whispered, digging his fingers into Craig’s coat. “We should get back to Karen. She’s all alone with mom and I —”

“Of course.” 

They pulled apart reluctantly, and Craig immediately reached for Kenny’s hand, grasping it in his and holding fast. Kenny squeezed his hand, and led him down the corridor to a room at the end of a long hallway. They had to go past two nurse stations, filled with men and women who looked at Kenny with deep sympathy as he passed. Kenny kept his head down, refusing to look at them or into the open rooms, where patients were being looked after, alive and either well or on their way. He stared down at the stark white floor as they went, no better than the stark white walls with the tasteless still-life mass prints of flowers in faded vases. Kenny paused them at the last door on the left, taking a moment to stare at it and breathe in deeply before he tightened his grip on Craig’s hand and pushed it open. 

Carol McCormick lay on the hospital bed, a sheet pulled up to her waist, looking just peaceful enough that she could be sleeping. There were deep, dark circles under her eyes, a faded bruise on her jaw, and her lips were chapped and raw. Her skin was pale and even her normally vibrant red hair was lusterless and drab, and Craig didn’t think it had much to do with her death. She had been unhooked from the machines, and they buzzed quietly in their stasis, but didn’t beep or otherwise make noise. Her hands were above the sheet at her sides, and Karen sat in a chair beside her, tears rolling down her face as she stroked her mother’s shand. She didn’t look up when Craig and Kenny entered the room.

Karen had always been a soft spoken, gentle, intelligent girl. She spent a lot of time at Craig’s house, long before he’d ever started seeing Kenny, given that she and Tricia were best friends. Craig was fond of her — she was polite and never got in the way, and he’d seen her stand up for Tricia more than once. He figured she got her protective nature from her older brother, since it certainly hadn’t come from her parents. He released Kenny’s hand and moved to kneel beside Karen. He reached out and stroked her hair back; she still didn’t look at him, but her face crumpled and fresh tears fell, and she buried her face into the bed, grasping at her mother’s hand. She sobbed quietly into the bed as Craig stroked her hair, and he ached for them both. Kevin, too, though he hadn't yet arrived. He was probably on the way home from Denver, and Craig wondered if Kenny had called him and told him of their mother's passing or if he was going to wait until he got here. 

The love seat Karen sat on had been dragged away from the wall so they could sit closer to their mother, and Kenny circled around it to sit beside her. She went to him immediately, releasing her hold on her mother's hand and latching onto Kenny like he was her final lifeline; in many ways, he was. She curled into his side and wrapped her arms around his waist, and his wound around her shoulders, and they clung to one another as she wept. Kenny's brow furrowed with his effort to keep things together and he rested his cheek on the top of Karen's head. She didn't ask why or how or for what reason this happened — she knew. She'd known all her life what her parents were and what their fate was, all of the McCormick children did. None of that mitigated the loss of their mother. Craig was one of the few privy to the fact that Clyde still grieved for his mother, and was prone to bouts of depression over her death. Losing a parent young was something that you never quite got over. 

Craig moved to sit on Kenny's opposite side, and Kenny seemed to shuffle a little, seeking contact with Craig without wanting to pull back from Karen. Craig shifted over until his leg and side were pressed against Kenny, which seemed to settle him down a little. Craig wrapped an arm around Kenny's shoulders and the three of them sat like that for a long while, the silence punctuated only by Karen's quiet sobs. 

Twenty minutes later, Karen had fallen asleep, passed out in her grief. Kenny shifted her so that her head was in his lap and he could turn to Craig, sliding a hand up his chest to wrap around his neck. Craig turned to accommodate the somewhat awkward position, threading his hand into Kenny's hair as his boyfriend buried his face into his coat. 

"She's asleep," Craig murmured quietly. "You don't have to hold it together for me." Craig recalled how he’d broken down so immediately in front of Kenny at Stripe’s passing. Kenny held no judgement, just let him cry his heart out and silently bore witness to the way Craig spoke to the stars. Now he could return the favour, much as he wished he wouldn’t have to. Kenny breathed deeply, and it didn’t take long before Craig could feel him trembling, a full body shudder following soon after. He gasped softly into Craig’s neck as he cried as quietly as he could, maybe out of embarrassment or maybe to not wake Karen. Maybe because if he properly let go, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself. It didn’t matter the reason, Craig decided. It didn’t matter if Kenny was crying quietly into his neck or clutching at his mother and screaming his grief to the world. Craig would have held him no matter what. Kenny’s hand that wasn’t around his neck clasped at Craig’s free hand, twining their fingers together and clasping them hard. Craig gripped him right back, wishing he could melt right into Kenny. 

He wanted to say something, to tell him that he was sorry, that it wasn’t fair, that the hospital should have done something more for her, but it was all so banal and pedestrian that he opted for silence, letting Kenny’s grief fill the room instead. He scratched lightly at Kenny’s scalp as his boyfriend wept for his dead mother, and Craig wanted to cry right along with him. Not that he knew Carol; he’d maybe said ten words to her since they’d begun the school year. But seeing Kenny this way — strong, protective, indomitable Kenny, made Craig want to scream at the world for doing this to him. 

Kenny’s quiet sobs eventually trailed off to gentle sniffles, and he unapologetically wiped his eyes with the hood of Craig’s coat. Craig brought his hand away from Kenny’s hair and gently wiped at his cheek with his thumb, gazing at Kenny with what he hoped was a look of love and empathy. “It was — it wasn’t even the overdose that killed her,” Kenny whispered. Craig waited patiently as fresh tears fell, and he wiped them away with the sleeve of his coat when they did. Kenny gave him a weak, watery smile and caught Craig’s hand, placing a brief kiss against his palm. He closed his eyes, more tears fell, and he sniffed loudly. “She had a — a punctured lung. She took the vicodin for the pain, but it wasn’t getting better, wasn’t healing.” Craig frowned; he could imagine what caused the punctured lung, and it made his stomach churn. "Her lung filled with fluid, and she took more medicine for the pain, and then she tripped down the cellar stairs last week and I guess that made everything worse and she…”

Craig leaned in and kissed Kenny’s forehead, then he pressed his own forehead there as Kenny began to cry again, closing his eyes and pressing his lips together. Craig didn't have to ask how she'd punctured her lung. He would wait until they were ready to leave the hospital, probably not until Kevin got there, and then he'd have a talk with Kenny about moving out. He and Karen couldn't stay there with just Stuart; Carol took just as many hits as Kenny did to keep her family safe. Without her there, Craig didn’t even want to think about what Stuart would do to his youngest children. The problem was that Kenny wouldn’t be eighteen for another month yet. In bitter fortune, most of the next month would be occupied with funeral arrangements and visitors dropping by to bestow the grieving family with food. Craig had his suspicions that Sheila Broflovski would be the chief contributor. 

Craig felt a cool hand on his cheek, and he returned the favour; Kenny’s cheek was somewhat fevered and wet with tears. “Thank you for being here,” he whispered. Craig sighed. He’d have burned the town down to get here.

“I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” he offered instead. Another faint smile, and then Kenny tilted his chin up to place a wet, chaste kiss on Craig’s lips. Craig kissed him back, twice and three times until Kenny pulled away and nuzzled back under Craig’s chin, staring at his mother. “Why don’t you sleep till Kevin gets here?” Craig suggested. Kenny shook his head.

“I wanna look at her as long as I can,” he whispered softly. Craig understood that. He tilted his head and rested his cheek on the top of Kenny’s head, wrapping one arm around his shoulders. He took in Carol McCormick as well, her sad, cooling body lying lifeless and broken before her children. It was the way of things, for children to bury their parents, but it shouldn’t be happening to children quite so young. They had doubled back to Kenny’s house that morning, after he’d picked Craig and Tricia up, because Karen had forgotten part of a group project. He recalled listening to her shout a goodbye to her mother with a smile on her face, and wondered what her last interaction with her mother had been like. Had she been smiling at her daughter, tucking the papers into her backpack and kissing her on the head? Had she been coughing from the fluid in her lungs, unable to do more than wave a hand at her child as she left the house again? Were the painkillers already coursing through her system in an attempt to ease a pain she’d never recover from?

Craig's stomach churned, and he had to stop thinking about that.

“What’s your favourite memory of her?” Craig asked. 

“There were a few years back in middle and early high school for me, where she was sober. No drugs, no liquor or beer. Just mom,” Kenny said quietly, his voice cracking. “She had a job at a diner, made okay tips. She’d bring home leftovers sometimes, and then one day she brought home a brand new Monopoly set.” Kenny sniffled, brought a hand up and wiped at his nose with the sleeve of his hoodie. “She’d kicked dad out so he wasn’t there, and we had open face turkey sandwiches that were still kind of warm, and some fries. Kevin was working and had brought home a microwave and some popcorn like, a month earlier. We had a game night, and she kicked our asses.” Craig could hear the smile in Kenny’s voice as he spoke, and he could imagine Carol being appropriately smug at wiping the board with her children. “She put on that ugly fur coat she wore to church and said that if it weren’t for dad, she’d have had plenty of control over her money and that Monopoly proved it.”

Craig pictured Carol strutting around the decrepit house in a gaudy fur coat, shit-talking her husband and declaring that they'd have more money and an easier time now that he was gone. Maybe if she'd been able to stay away from Stuart, they wouldn't be here right now. He was sure Kenny must have been thinking the same thing — how could he not be? That the half a dozen times Carol had sobered up and kicked Stuart out could have been the game changer if she had just been stronger, if she hadn’t taken him back time after time. Craig frowned, stroking his fingers through Kenny’s hair.

“She loved us,” Kenny murmured.

_ Who wouldn’t? _

“Of course she did,” he said instead, nuzzling against the top of Kenny’s head with his cheek. 

“I’ll see her again one day,” Kenny said, sounding for all the world like he believed this more than anything. It sort of surprised Craig, honestly. He hadn’t ever heard Kenny talk overmuch about religion or his beliefs; they’d both been raised Catholic, going to church on Sundays with the rest of the town and sitting through the boring, stiflingly warm masses until their parents had finally stopped forcing them to go. Craig’s own beliefs tended to lean toward “yeah, God exists, but he’s an absentee father figure that’ll show up at my wedding one day, drunk and expounding about how great I turned out despite not speaking to me for twenty years”. 

Kenny fell silent then, and Craig was only aware of his consciousness through his sniffles and his hand coming up to wipe at his face. There wasn't much else Craig could say, and he hated that he was so poor with words that he couldn't even comfort his boyfriend when he needed it the most. He carded his fingers through Kenny's hair, thick blond waves that seemed limp with Kenny's own mood. Kenny's phone vibrated, and he took it out of his pocket to glance at the screen, letting out a mirthless, choked laugh. He set it screen-down on Craig's thigh.

"Answer that for me, will you?" Kenny asked, his voice bordering on hysterical. Removing his arm from Kenny's shoulder, he picked up the phone and tapped in Kenny's password, unlocking the phone and navigating to the new message. It was from Stan, in a group chat with him, Kyle, and Kenny.

_ Hey dude, how much was in her system this time? _

Craig frowned severely, tensing up immediately. 

"It's okay, that's how it always goes," Kenny said, wiping at his eyes again. He finally released Craig's hand and reached for a box of tissues, pressing a handful of them to his face. "I thought the same thing before the principal told me otherwise." 

"What do you want me to tell him?" Craig asked gently, his fingers poised over the screen. 

"The truth, I guess," Kenny shrugged. "I just can't handle it right now." Craig nodded, frowning down at the phone in his hands. 

_ it's craig. his mom died. she had a punctured lung and it filled with fluid. she took vicodin for the pain but OD'd. i guess by the time they pumped her stomach, she suffocated or something. _

His thumbs hovered for a moment, contemplating anything else he could say, but he already sounded insensitive enough. He pressed send, and gripped the phone tight as he waited. The response came less than a minute later.

_Stannabelle Lee _

_ omfg omfg no _

_ Kylie Minogue _

_ STAN _

_ Stannabelle Lee _

_ omfg no _

_ Kylie Minogue _

_ holy shit… is Kenny okay? _

_ Stannabelle Lee _

_ oh god did he READ WHAT I SENT _

_ Kylie Minogue _

_ PHRASING, STANLEY. _

The texts fluttered in one after another, lighting up the screen with a flurry of blue. Craig smirked despite himself.

“Let me guess — Kyle’s berating Stan for his choice of words,” Kenny guessed, humming as he leaned forward and blew his nose into a tissue. Craig snorted his affirmation, typing back to them.

_ he read it, but he’s not mad. he’s about as good as he’s going to get. kevin’s on his way. _ He pressed send. He bit his lip, then began to type again. _ i want him and karen to come back to my place tonight. i haven’t talked about it yet but when his father finds out he’s going to lose it and i don’t think they’ll be safe. _

_ Kylie Minogue _

_ You’re right, Stuart is going to lose it. Let us know if you need help convincing him — he’s stubborn. _

_ Stannabelle Lee _

_ let us know if he needs anything at all dude, tell him we’re here for him and we love him. _

_ Kylie Minogue _

_ Can I tell my parents? _

Craig looked up at Kenny, hunched forward over Karen with his head in his hands. He reached out and touched his back gently, and Kenny took a deep, shuddering breath in at the contact. “Honey?” Craig said softly, selfishly wishing he could see Kenny’s face to see if his pet name had any effect on him. “Kyle wants to know if he can tell his parents, and they say they love you.”

Kenny wiped his hands down his face, sniffling harshly. Craig could see the side of Kenny’s mouth curl upwards in a cold smile. “It’s not like anything’s going to change if he waits, so he might as well. Mrs. B won’t like it if she’s last to know.”

Craig typed out his answer and was pressing send when the door opened, revealing a sympathetic looking nurse and a frantic Kevin. He wore an expression of disbelief as he took in his younger siblings, and then his eyes fell on his mother. His eyebrows knitted together and he brought a hand up to tug at his hair. He made some sort of distressed noise, somewhere between a choked sob and a cry of anguish. It woke Karen from her fitful slumber, and she sat up immediately and threw herself at him, her sobs renewing as she buried her face into her oldest brother’s chest. He wrapped himself around her, too tall to bury his head into her hair, and his face contorted in grief. Kenny stood, shuffling over to his siblings; Kevin reached out with one arm and pulled his brother in, and the three of them clung to one another. Craig felt like he was intruding on a deeply personal, private moment, and so he quietly slipped from the room, nodding at Kevin when he looked up as he passed. He stood just outside the door, leaning against the wall and craving a cigarette, but he didn’t want to stray too far from Kenny. 

Kenny’s phone was vibrating with messages from Stan and Kyle, but Craig shoved it into his pocket in favour of his own phone, navigating to a text from his father. It was a simple ‘how’s things?’, so Craig decided to call him. He picked up on the second ring.

“So what’s going on?” his father asked. Craig sighed.

“She died, dad,” he said quietly. Thomas swore softly, and Craig imagined that he was rubbing his receding hairline fretfully. “Kenny’s older brother came in from Denver just now.” His father stayed silent, the static on the phone interrupted only by quiet huffs and the occasional shuffling. “When Stuart finds out, he’s going to snap and I don’t know if Kenny will be able to fend him off this time. Can him and Karen stay with us tonight?” 

“You know he can,” his father affirmed. Craig sighed in relief. “Have you talked to him about that?”

“Not yet. Kevin just got here and I wanted to give them some space.” He paused, staring up at the ceiling of the hospital and sighing. “They’re a wreck, dad.”

“Of course they are. They just lost the only parent who gave a shit about them,” Thomas said, unable to keep the sneer out of his voice. “Stuart can’t provide jack, and Carol was barely better, but she was at least a buffer between him and the kids." Craig would probably muse over a mother's love for her children at some distant point in all this mess, and he couldn’t even kid himself to pretend that he wasn’t going to go home and hug his own mother until her back cracked. His father sighed deeply on the other end. “The best you can do is be there for them.” 

“Yeah…” Craig sighed. 

When he hung up with his father, he could hear murmured words and sniffles from inside the room. He sunk down to the floor and sprawled his long legs out in front of him, leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes. When the door eventually cracked open, Kenny emerged, his face wet with tears once again. He stepped over Craig’s legs and slid down to sit beside him, curling his knees to his chest and leaning against Craig’s shoulder. Craig wrapped an arm around him.

“What now?” Craig asked, his voice soft. He had no idea what should be done after someone died. It was always handled by adults, but he had a feeling that Stuart would be less than useless in all this. 

“Kev’s going to help pay for the funeral; he’s got a motel room for a week, says he won’t stay under the same roof as Stuart ever again and I can’t fucking blame him,” Kenny said hoarsely, a raspy, humourless laugh tearing its way from his throat.

“Come stay at my house tonight,” Craig blurted. “You and Karen can come stay with me, your dad’s going to freak out when he finds out what happened and you don’t need a broken nose at the funeral.” 

Kenny pulled back and blinked at him, his blue eyes wide and misty. His mouth cracked into a lopsided grin, a genuine one despite everything falling to pieces around him. His eyes dampened again and he nodded, wiping them away with the heel of his palm. 

"That… would be really great," he murmured. Craig reached out, palm up, silently asking for Kenny's hand. It was damp when he took it, and a little cool, but Craig didn't mind. Kenny gripped his hand tightly, sniffling hard and wiping at his nose with the sleeve of the other. He leaned back against Craig, rubbing his cheek into his shoulder in a way that reminded Craig of the guinea pigs. He tilted his head to rest it against Kenny's, and despite the cold of the sterilized tile they sat on, Craig thought he might be able to fall asleep easily. Karen and Kevin were still in the room, and the ER was eerily quiet in the early evening hours. Kenny shifted restlessly against him, however, and Craig rubbed little circles over the back of his hand in an effort to soothe him. 

A shadow hovered over them, and they both looked up to see a subdued looking nurse, holding a thin manilla folder in her hands. She passed it to Kenny.

"A list of numbers you may need in the next few days," she said quietly, gently. Kenny took the folder but didn't open it, nodding to her but seeming unable to articulate anything to her. She offered him a wan smile before making her way down the hall and vanishing into another room. 

Kenny stared down at the folder, gripping it so tightly in his hands that it bent. The door to his left opened then, and Kevin emerged, Karen clinging to his arm. 

“We should go,” he said, his voice rough and his eyes red. “We have to tell dad, and I’ll sneak you guys into my motel room for the night.”

“Craig said we can stay with him and Tricia,” Kenny said. Kevin flicked his gaze to Craig; he could read Kenny easily, but his older brother was nothing like him and he felt like he was being appraised. Kevin nodded then, and he looked down at Karen.

“What do you wanna do, Kare?” he asked gently. She bit her lip.

“If I go with Kenny, who’s going to go with you?” she asked sadly. He smiled at her.

“I’ll be okay, you know me,” he said. 

“You could come too,” Craig said, drawing three sets of blue eyes to him. “My parents won’t mind. We have an air mattress, or you could sleep on the couch.” Kevin eyed him critically for a moment, and then his gaze softened.

“Nah, it’s okay. I grieve better on my own,” he said, trying to sound dismissive. "Just take care of the littles for me, yeah?" Kenny snorted. 

"I'm taller than you are, that doesn't work anymore," he said. Kevin reached out and tapped Kenny's cheek a few times with the flat of his palm. 

"It'll always work, I'm older than you are." He took one last look at his mother, then sighed. "Come on, let's get you back home to grab your shit and tell dad." He shook his head. "This isn't going to be pretty." Kenny scowled.

"Nothing involving Stuart ever is," he grumbled. He finally stood, bringing Craig up with him. "Karen, why don't you drive home with Kev? You two can catch up." Karen nodded mutely, but Craig didn't miss the subtle, dark looks that Kevin and Kenny exchanged. Kevin then guided Karen down the hall, and her quiet sobs started up again as she was led away from her mother for the last time. Kenny watched his siblings go, and Craig watched the tension flood into his body. He ran his hands through his blond hair roughly, sniffling harshly and looking like he was about to punch a wall. 

Craig reached out, going for Kenny's waist and wrapping around him from behind. Kenny remained tense, but he gripped at Craig's hands nonetheless. The words Craig wanted to say were on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't make this moment about him and his feelings. This was Kenny's, and Karen's, and Kevin's. The only thing he should do was be there for him, and he would do that as best he could. 

"We should get going," Kenny said. His voice was rough and harsh and soft all at once. 

"I'll meet you back at yours," he said, and he felt some of the tension leave Kenny at that. 

"Will you do me a huge favour?" he asked. He turned around in Craig's arms, holding his forearms. 

_ Anything_, Craig thought. _ Everything. _

“Sure,” came out instead. 

“When we get back to the house, I’m going to send Karen inside to get her stuff. I’ll have her tell Stuart she’s going to spend the night with Tricia, and then will you take her back to yours? I don’t want her there when Kevin and I tell him,” he said. “A broken nose for the funeral might be the least of my concerns.” Craig’s stomach dropped, but he nodded. 

“Of course,” he agreed. He felt Kenny relax further, and even got a pale smile for his acquiescence. 

“Thank you,” Kenny whispered. He leaned forward and pressed his forehead against Craig’s, closing his watery blue eyes. Craig placed his cool hands on Kenny’s neck, which was overwarm, nearly sweaty. They stayed like that for what felt like several minutes, and then Kenny pulled away, reluctance colouring his movements. He stepped into the room, and Craig watched as he made his way to his mother’s body. He bent over her, placing a kiss on her cheek and murmuring something Craig couldn’t hear under his breath. He swiped at his eyes and then turned away from the last bit of warmth that his mother would ever cling to. 

He closed her door and took Craig’s hand, gripping it so tightly that it hurt, but Craig squeezed his just as tightly, and together, white knuckled, he led Kenny from the hospital. They parted at Kenny’s truck with gentle, chaste kisses. He took Kenny’s phone from his pocket and gave it back to him.

“I almost forgot about this,” Kenny said, attempting a laugh. “I’ve got a few phone calls to make.” 

Craig had a feeling he wasn’t talking about a funeral home. 

“Just… please be safe,” Craig asked. “Are you sure we can’t just come pick up your truck tomorrow?” Kenny smiled apologetically.

“It’s okay. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll meet you back at my house?” he said, looking heartbroken and hopeful. 

_ Even if I had to pick through a post apocalyptic wasteland, I’d meet you at your house. _

“Yeah,” he agreed. He leaned in and kissed Kenny’s forehead, lingering just a little. Kenny returned the affection with another kiss on the lips, and then he was climbing into his truck.

Craig made his way back to his dad’s car, hands in his pockets against the chill wind that had picked up. As he started the car, he could see Kenny pulling out of the car park, already on his phone. Frowning to himself, refusing to look back at the hospital, Craig put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking spot. 

The drive to the hospital had been tense and worried and stiff; the drive back into South Park was a deflated balloon in comparison. His grip on the steering wheel was lax at best and he slumped slightly in the seat. He was half a dozen car lengths or so behind Kenny, catching a glimpse of the rusty old truck whenever another car would merge into a different lane. He wasn't driving erratically or inconsistently, much to Craig's relief. He stayed on his phone most of the time, though, and Craig was glad they hadn't encountered any police. His own mind was occupied with thoughts of the near future. A viewing, maybe, in the next few days. A funeral the day after that, if they were going with burial. Cremation wasn't popular in South Park, though it would be cheaper than a full funeral. 

Before he knew it, he was pulling up to the curb a house down from Kenny's, parking behind Kevin. None of them parked immediately out front — likely to keep from alerting Stuart from seeing them and suspecting anything before Karen could gather her things. Craig opted to wait in his car in case things went pear shaped. He wanted nothing more than to deck Stuart, twice for every time Kenny had come to him with new bruises or with blood decorating his lips and knuckles. But it wasn't his place right now; it was for Kenny and Kevin to deal with, and with any luck, Stuart would be sober and Karen could get in and out in no time. The sooner this was dealt with, the sooner Craig could pack the McCormicks into his house and let them grieve in safety. 

When Karen stepped out of Kevin’s truck, her small face was steely with resolve, and Craig smirked, a sort of pride bubbling up as he watched her march up to her house and go inside. He couldn’t imagine how difficult it must be to walk into their family home just an hour or so after their mother had died, and he admired the strength the thirteen year old girl showed. The door shut behind her, and all they could do was wait. Kenny and Kevin loitered to the side of the house, near enough to hear any potential shouting through the thin walls but well enough out of sight that Stuart wouldn’t be able to see them. It was a tense ten minutes, but eventually she emerged from the house again, a pillow under one arm and her backpack slung over one shoulder. Relief washed over Kenny and Kevin’s faces, and Karen hurried over to her brothers. The three of them spoke quietly for a moment, and then Kenny moved around to the opposite side of his house and lifted the window to his bedroom. He was only in there for maybe three minutes, and then he threw a backpack out the window and scrambled back out. Karen took his bag and then made her way to Craig’s car; he unlocked the door for her, letting her toss the bags into the back before she slid into the passenger’s seat. 

“You should just go,” she huffed, “Kenny and Kevin don’t want me here when they go in.”

“Probably for good reason,” Craig said. He knew better than to pull punches with Karen. “Stuart isn’t going to take this well at all.” Karen rolled her red, swollen eyes.

“You could hand him fifty bucks and he wouldn’t handle it well.” 

Craig looked across the lawn at Kenny, who was looking dour and determined. He nodded at Craig, and then turned to face the front door. Sighing quietly to himself, he put the car in drive and pulled away from the McCormick household.

“He was at least sober when I went in. Well, mostly sober,” Karen said bitterly. “And since Kenny’s stuff is with us, they can just… tell him and then get out of dodge.” 

“I’m sure that’s exactly what they’ll do,” Craig assured. “Kenny’s not, uh, the biggest fan —” Karen cut him off with a derisive noise.

“Kenny hates dad, you can say it.”

“He really fucking hates Stuart.”

“He’s hard to love, always has been,” Karen said, sounding wise beyond her years. “That’s what made mom special.” She choked on the last word, and a quick glance showed her face scrunching up in grief once more, tears speeding down her cheeks. She sniffled heavily and pawed through the glove compartment for napkins. She pressed one into her face, crying quietly. 

Craig didn’t quite know what to say, only knew that his chest hurt for her and there was nothing he could do. Instead of turning into his neighbourhood, he took a right at the police station and made his way to City Wok. Karen looked up at him, confused and red faced.

“You like Chinese? I’ll grab a bunch and we can take it back to my place. What do you want?” he asked as he pulled into a parking space. Karen smiled at him, watery and weak, but it was a smile. He’d take what he could get.

“Anything with noodles, please.” He nodded and exited the car, leaving it running against the frigid temperatures. He hustled inside, taking a few moments to scan the menu and make a list of what he wanted to order. In the end, he ended up buying seventy dollars worth of Chinese food, thinking that he’d be feeding himself, Kenny, Karen, Tricia, maybe Kevin, maybe his parents. Lo mein, fried and white rice, General Tso’s and orange chicken, spring rolls, crab rangoons, and even an order of those little deep fried sugar donuts. He had to pay with his debit card, but it was worth it to see the look of amusement on Tricia’s face when he climbed into the car twenty minutes later with four bags packed to maximum capacity with take out. 

When he pulled his dad’s car into his driveway, he was a little confused to see Stan’s station wagon parked in the street in front of his house. He took the bags of food from the car while Karen grabbed her backpack; the front door was uncharacteristically open, just the storm door closed and allowing a view into their living room. He maneuvered the door open for Karen, where she was immediately set upon by Tricia and, surprisingly, Ike Broflovski. Tricia was visibly upset and Ike looked a little wounded as well, and Karen’s face crumpled once more as she clung to her friends in the foyer and wept into their shoulders. Stan and Kyle stood a little ways back, looking concerned, their eyes casting behind him for Kenny. 

“Will one of you make yourself useful? This food’s heavy,” Craig complained, if only to get them to move. Stan blinked as if he were waking up, then jogged forward to take two of the bags. 

“Where’s Kenny?” he asked, hefting the weight of the bags and raising an amused eyebrow at them. 

“Telling Stuart. He didn’t want Karen there for that,” Craig answered quietly, looking back over at her. Stan grimaced.

“Probably a good idea. Should we call the cops, just in case?” he asked. It was a thought Craig had entertained briefly on the way home, but had ultimately decided against it.

“He’s got Kevin with him, and he’ll want to get back to Karen ASAP. I wouldn’t be surprised if they just shouted it through the door and then left,” Craig said, shaking his head. “What are you two doing here?” Kyle stepped up behind Stan, one hand automatically settling at the small of his back, the other hooking a finger into one of the bags and peering inside.

“We wanted to be here for Kenny too,” he said. That was fair, Craig figured. Stan and Kyle had been closer to Kenny for far longer than he’d been in the picture. He couldn’t even find the right moment to confess his feelings, though he’d heard the three of them shouting their affections from one end of the hallway to the other in school often enough. Kyle looked amused as he stared down at the bags of food, biting his lip and glancing back at the kitchen, where his mother was hovering in the doorway, hiding a smile behind her hand. 

“What’s so funny?” Craig asked waspishly, a venom leeching into his voice. His father stepped around his mother, a little flustered looking, while Laura giggled.

"Your father ordered pizzas right after you called, and then Stan and Kyle showed up with subs and fries," she said. Craig looked down at the food in the bags and groaned. "Well, at least there's a variety." Laura swept into the room and took the bags from them, tittering amusedly to herself. Once his hands were free, he pulled his cell phone out and sent Kenny a text, telling him not to stop for any food. 

When he looked up, he turned his attention back to Karen. Kyle was solicitously fussing over her, and she was sniffling and smiling a little, brushing her tears away. 

"You hungry?" he asked her. She bit her lip, her smile slipping away.

"I thought you weren't supposed to be hungry when someone dies," she said, pouting a little. 

"Everyone's different," Stan said with a shrug. "I don't have an appetite when I'm upset, but Kyle eats all his feelings." Kyle narrowed his eyes at his boyfriend, but didn't disagree. Karen nodded, appeased. Shoving his brother and Stan out of the way, Ike threw an arm around Karen's shoulders, sweeping the other in a wide arc toward the kitchen.

"Well we've got a buffet, so take your pick!" he said loudly. Tricia rolled her eyes, but followed her friends into the kitchen. 

"Any word?" Stan asked, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking anxious. Craig and Kyle both checked their phones, but there was nothing. Kenny kept his read receipts off, so Craig couldn't see if the message had even been viewed. 

“Not yet,” he said. He jerked his head toward the couches in the living room. “We might as well sit.” Stan joined him immediately, but Kyle went and retrieved a sub from the kitchen, carting it and three sodas back into the living room. He handed them off and settled next to Stan with his food, picking the pickles off and absently handing them to Stan, who took them without a word. It was an adorable move that spoke of the years they’d spent around one another, learning each other’s idiosyncrasies and habits. Watching the exchange sent a volley of emotions through Craig. First it was an eagerness to get to that point with Kenny; one day, maybe years from now, but hopefully not as long as Stan and Kyle had been cultivating it, they would be so in sync with one another that things would be automatic and they could flow around one another like water. The second thought was more intrusive and dark; would they even last that long? Would Kenny want to stick around long enough to develop shared habits and tendencies? Craig didn’t have anything to offer, and Kenny was already half a business owner at seventeen. Craig worked part time at a shoe store, only because his best friend’s dad owned it, and barely made minimum wage at ten hours a week. 

He was having a minor meltdown at things that had yet to come to pass as he watched Stan eat another limp pickle that Kyle had foisted on him when his front door opened. Kenny slipped inside, his eyes scanning the room and quickly ziplining to Craig, and then over to Stan and Kyle, who had darted out of their seats as soon as they could. Surprise coloured Kenny’s face before his friends barrelled into him, the three of them knocking back into the wall. Stan’s arms were around Kenny’s neck and Kyle’s were around his waist and they were tucked so closely against him that Craig couldn’t see their faces. Kenny’s brow furrowed with emotion and he buried his face into the hood of Stan’s sweatshirt, his arms wrapping around their waists and holding them tightly. Craig may have been dating Kenny, but he felt like he was intruding on a private moment, much like in the hospital. He helped himself to a few fries from Kyle's plate and ached when he heard Kenny muffle a sob into Stan's hoodie. 

He stood, wiping his fingers on his jeans and hovering awkwardly behind Stan and Kyle. When Kenny finally picked his head up, his eyes were red again and Craig got a good look at his face. No blood smears, no split lips or fractured noses, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Stan pulled back, cupping Kenny's face in his hands and brushing back his tears with his thumbs. They offered one another bland, watery smiles, and Kenny rested their foreheads together. Kyle leaned back a little, just enough to take in the two before him. 

"Mom's already cooking three different meals," he said with a sheepish little smile. Stan nodded.

"Mine too," he said. Kenny hiccuped a little laugh. 

“What would I do without you guys?” he mumbled, sniffling heavily. Stan sighed dramatically.

“Oh, I think you’d be fine. You’ve got him, y’know,” he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at Craig. At the mention, Craig refocused his gaze on Kenny, giving him as soft a look as he could manage. Stan and Kyle parted, pulling back from Kenny, and Kenny reached for him. Ignoring the little voice in the back of his head telling him not to do this when people were watching, Craig stepped up to Kenny and wrapped him up in his arms, tucking his head into the crook of his neck and resting his own cheek atop blond hair. Kenny clung to him, and for the first time, he felt small, and fragile in his arms. They held one another in silence for a few long minutes, and then Kenny pulled back, sniffling harshly and wiping at his eyes. 

“Why do I smell pizza _ and _ Chinese food?” he asked. Craig huffed a little.

“Because we all had similar thoughts,” he said. He followed Kenny into the kitchen; a box of pizza was open on the stove top, another one under it. The counter was littered with boxes of Chinese food and bags of subs and french fries. Kenny’s face split into a smile; it was watery and his lip shook a little, but it was real. 

Craig’s parents vacated the kitchen and let the seven teens crowd into it, perching themselves on chairs and on the counters. They ate in relative silence, Kenny picking at his food but eating enough to keep Craig from protesting. Halfway through a narrow slice of pizza, Craig looked up from the staring contest he was having with a paper plate to see fresh tears tracking down Kenny’s face. Kyle was running his fingers through Kenny’s thick blond hair, one hand on his forearm and his brows drawn together. Craig reached out and covered Kenny’s hand with his own. Kenny sucked in a breath of air through his teeth, his face crumpling as he ducked his head. Upon seeing her brother lose his composure once more, Karen’s control broke as well, drawing in a gasping breath. Kenny clenched his eyes shut, his upper lip curling in half a snarl as he turned to bury his face in Kyle’s shoulder. 

Craig stood, intending on circling the table to comfort his boyfriend, but his mother appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and motioned him to her. With a glance at the McCormick siblings, who were appropriately surrounded by their friends, he slipped from the kitchen. His father emerged from the basement and left the door open, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.

“We pulled out all the spare blankets and turned on the radiator. You can all crash down there tonight,” he said. Craig nodded, his throat tight with emotion.

“Thanks, dad,” he murmured. Thomas nodded, looking like he wanted to say something further, but decided against it. After all, what else could really be said? Words were useless here. His mother stepped up beside him, placing her hands on his shoulders and squeezing him to her side. 

“They’ll get through this,” she said softly. “I was about Karen’s age when my dad died. It wasn’t easy, but,” she sighed, shrugging, “it’s nothing you can deal with any way but head on. Death’s a fact of life, and we’re all going to experience it at some point.” 

Craig knew this. Of course he knew it; he was logical and pragmatic and intelligent enough to be perfectly aware that death was a great equalizer, and that it came for them all eventually, playing no favourites and showing no mercy. He just hadn’t thought that watching someone _ else _ grieve would cause a different kind of grief all his own. That watching his lover’s life crumble to pieces would be just as agonizing, in different ways, as what Kenny himself was going through. Craig wanted to rip through heaven or hell or whatever veil lay between them and drag Carol McCormick back to the land of the living, because watching Kenny break into pieces before him was _ agony_. 

“What am I supposed to say to him?” he whispered, staring at the open door, unable to meet his parents’ eyes. When Karen had cried herself to sleep between Tricia and Ike, or tucked against her brother’s side, when Stan and Kyle had ceased their hushed planning of how to handle the next few days and fell asleep in one another’s arms, when Kenny lay awake in his arms, staring at the ceiling and letting the tears fall back into his hairline, what would Craig say? 

“Why does it have to be words?” his mother asked gently. 

Craig felt his face relax, probably for the first time in hours. Maybe existing and listening was all that was necessary for the moment. He thought about his stars, and how many hours he’d spent over the course of his life talking to them, shouting his fury, whispering his heartache, begging for answers. He thought of their endless silence and how he’d never held it against them that they never offered advice. The solace they brought was there regardless, and he never doubted in them. They were his constant.

He’d have to be Kenny’s. 

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title taken from Bon Iver's 'Holocene'.


	12. To Be Silent, To Be Selfless

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Two fingers and a tight line  
Keep my head above the alpine  
Just wish I'd spent more time  
Listenin’ to her speak her mind"  
_Caamp, By and By_

Carol McCormick was buried on a cold, overcast day on the third of March. 

A popup tent was pitched over the hole in the ground, sheltering the attendees of the service from any impending rain. Stuart sat in a folding chair, hands in his lap, subdued and appearing to be as sober as he could get. Kevin, Kenny, and Karen had their own chairs, though they were set up at a noticeable distance from their father. Karen sat between her brothers, her protectors in black, each of her hands grasping one of theirs. Tears flowed freely from Karen’s eyes, rolling off her chin and staining the black skirt she wore. Kevin clenched and unclenched his jaw, his eyes glassy and unfocused as he stared at his mother’s casket. 

Kenny was unsettled, his eyes darting to and away from Stuart with enough frequency to raise his suspicion, if he’d had any situational awareness to begin with. Craig sat right behind him, with Stan and Kyle next to him, and Ike and Tricia on his other side. He knew he should have been paying more attention to what Father Maxi was saying, but all he could focus on was Kenny and how uncomfortable he seemed to be. His left leg was bouncing nearly nonstop, and the hand that wasn’t holding Karen’s was twisting in the knee of his suit trousers, wrinkling it. Craig wanted nothing more than to wrap his arms around him from behind and press his forehead to the back of his neck, though the Catholic guilt kept him from doing so. 

Half of their class had shown up to support Kenny, and many of Karen’s friends were present as well. Stan, Kyle, and Craig’s parents were there, along with some of Carol’s coworkers from the diner. There were even a few local barflies there, people who had spent time with Carol and Stuart at Skeeter’s more often than not. 

“Not a bad turnout for a junkie,” someone Craig couldn’t identify had said before the service started. Kenny and his siblings had fortunately been out of earshot; Wendy Testaburger was not.

That particular person left after a very, very brief conversation with the class president. 

The grief of watching someone you love grieve was such a strange feeling that it spiked a tension and anxiety in Craig that he hadn’t experienced much of since he’d started seeing Kenny. What an awful time to think about something like this, Craig thought nastily to himself. He wasn’t trying to make any of this about him, but compartmentalizing things was the only way he was going to get through this in one piece. He had foolishly thought that Kenny was the cure-all to his anxiety, but the past week has taught him otherwise. His anxiety was manifesting in a whole new way, as if it were subconsciously adapting to accommodate Kenny’s anguish and prevent Craig from upsetting him further. 

It all stemmed, of course, from a sense of helplessness. He couldn’t _ do _ anything for Kenny, he couldn’t make this better, he couldn’t just light a car on fire or adopt new pets or quietly pass him a corn dog and fix it. There wasn’t a fix for this; death was the most permanent thing in the world, and you only had one mother to lose. Kenny was… not a shell, that wasn’t a fair assessment. He was muted and diluted, like too much liquid had been added to watercolours, causing it to run in places it shouldn't be. He was rain-soaked with grief and couldn’t absorb any more, so it just puddled around him, cutting to the bone. Craig couldn’t wrap himself around Kenny enough — he wasn’t warm enough, wasn’t comforting enough, just… wasn’t enough. It wasn’t for lack of trying, but this sort of grief wasn’t something anyone could do anything about, and that helplessness was driving Craig mad. He was climbing the walls of his own mind, begging the stars to give him a break and let him in on some secret that would help ease Kenny’s pain.

The stars were silent, because there wasn’t anything that could be done. 

It was Clyde who told him that, just the night before. The viewing for Carol had been a closed-casket affair, and while Kenny had been speaking with someone, Clyde found Craig outside, chain smoking his third cigarette and digging his nails into his palms so hard he was breaking skin. His best friend could be unsettlingly perceptive sometimes; not often, but always when absolutely necessary. 

“You’re doing enough, you know,” Clyde said quietly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Craig had snorted, exhaling smoke and then sniffling harshly.

“I haven’t done shit,” he said, his voice raspy. Clyde shook his head.

“Nah, you’re doing more than you know. He just lost his mom.” Craig looked up sharply, and Clyde was staring up at the evening sky, a sad smile on his face. “Nothing you can say or do is going to make him hurt less, but you’ve made it clear that he doesn’t have to hurt _ alone_.” He paused, looking back over at Craig. “Alone is the worst thing he could be right now.”

Craig exhaled, a great billow of smoke and cold breath floating up and vanishing before him. “Is it ever going to get any easier for him?” he asked.

Clyde smiled, soft and sad, and his eyes gave Craig his answer.

_ That isn’t good enough_, Craig’s anxiety whispered to him. _ Do something _.

_ Nothing to do_.

Father Maxi was talking, Karen was crying, the best Craig could do was exist near Kenny, and his brain was so scattered that Carol’s coffin was halfway in the ground before he realized it. 

Some boyfriend he was.

He watched Kenny stand, drawing his siblings up with him. The three of them walked, hand in hand, to stand beside the hole in the ground that would hold their mother longer than they ever got to. Movement to his left caught his attention, and he saw Stuart stand and make his way to the coffin. Kenny’s body tensed even further, though he pointedly didn’t so much as acknowledge his father. Stuart stood a few feet away from his grieving children, unwilling to face what would doubtlessly be Kenny’s full wrath if he stepped closer to them. 

Carol’s children stood before her grave, watching with bowed heads and shaking shoulders, as their mother’s body was moved for the last time. Karen hiccuped a sob and released Kenny’s hand to bury herself into Kevin’s chest, her tiny frame shuddering against her oldest brother. Kenny’s hands clenched into fists as the winch stopped moving and Craig dug his fingers into his knees, focusing on the pinpricks of pain in an effort to stop from rushing to Kenny’s side like some Disney princess. 

When he stopped talking, Father Maxi bypassed Stuart and stepped toward Kenny, who was forced to turn and look at him. It was the first glimpse Craig had gotten of Kenny’s face since the service had started; he was sort of expecting something more dramatic, if he were being honest with himself. Kenny’s face was tight with tension, accentuating his sharp features and high cheekbones, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked the same as he did twenty minutes ago, and Craig suddenly felt like an idiot for thinking that Kenny might undergo some sort of tragic metamorphosis during Father Maxi’s speech. The priest embraced Kenny, who returned the gesture a little stiffly, before handing him the shovel in a reverent way that Craig thought only a man of the clergy could manage. Kenny took the shovel and looked back at Kevin, who was still cradling Karen close. They had some sort of nonverbal conversation, and then Kenny was moving to the pile of soil, shovel clenched in a white knuckled grip. He held it poised above the mound, so perfectly still that he may as well have been carved from marble. Then he plunged it into the dirt, the action easy and fluid from summers spent working construction, and gently upended it into the hole, wincing when it scattered across the lacquered wood of his mother’s coffin. 

He was preparing for another scoop when Karen launched herself from Kevin’s arms and grabbed at one of Kenny’s. He startled, taken aback, blinking down at his little sister with wide eyes. She sniffled loudly, and reached for the shovel. Kenny’s face softened so immediately that it was suddenly like Craig was looking at a different person, and he relinquished his hold on the shovel. He stepped back to stand next to Kevin, who had a look of grim pride on his face, and Karen took his place before the open grave. She hefted a shovelful of dirt, tears streaming down her face, and let it fall into the bleak little cavern. She stood over the grave for a moment, and then turned back to her brothers. She held the shovel out to Kevin, but he shook his head and stepped up to the grave. 

He discarded the shovel and knelt down, scooping some dirt into his hands, uncaring about whether or not it got on the sleeves of his suit. He knelt there for a moment, maybe two; it felt like hours to Craig. When Kevin finally stood, he stretched his hands out over the grave and let the soil fall across the casket within, the sound muted from the soil his siblings had dropped in before him. He didn’t bother brushing his hands off.

Father Maxi sent a concerned look between Kenny and Stuart, causing Kenny’s mouth to swing down in a frown so severe that the priest looked a little guilty. Kenny took the shovel from Karen, and that was the last gentle gesture Craig could register. As he stepped away from his siblings, he was a stiff, walking board of tension and barely leashed aggression. He stalked up to Stuart, dwarfing him by several inches. 

Stuart, at the very least, had the decency to look chagrined and ashamed as he looked up into the face of his furious son. Kenny’s jaw was clenched tight, his back ramrod straight, and in one swift movement, he stabbed the shovel into the ground, missing the toes of Stuart’s shoes by barely an inch. 

“This is the last conscious kindness I’m ever doing for you,” Kenny ground out, low and raspy with grief and suppressed rage. Then he stepped around his father, being careful not to brush past him, and stormed away from the tent, away from the prying eyes of his friends and family, and away from his mother, lying cold in the frozen ground. His long legs carried him to wherever he was going quickly, and Craig watched him go, pinned to the spot. He looked back to Karen and Kevin, and was surprised to find Kevin’s brown eyes locked on him.

_ Alone is the worst thing he could be right now. _

Kevin jerked his chin at him, the universal nonverbal command to go, move, get going. That was all the permission Craig needed; he stood, skirted around Tricia and Ike, and immediately lengthened his stride to catch up with Kenny. He was already out of sight, but the footprints in the snow were his guide. He chased after them and they eventually brought him to Kenny, leaning against the back of an old stone mausoleum, face turned to the sky, eyes open and blinking furiously as he gasped for breath. 

“Shit,” he murmured, his voice brittle. He rolled his head to look at Craig, and a wobbly, cold grin stretched across his mouth. “I really did that, huh?”

Craig didn’t like the smile Kenny wore. He looked like some bizarro Kenny, not his kind, hardworking boyfriend. He looked gutted, and Craig wanted to bundle him away from the world. “Yeah,” he said, sounding and feeling dumb. Before he could slap himself, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of American Spirits and a lighter. He handed one to Kenny, who took it with shaking hands and leaned forward for the light that Craig was already flicking into existence. He took the longest pull Craig had ever seen him take, and he expelled it again with a hoarse, rough laugh.

“_FUCK_,” he shouted emphatically, as loud as he could. A few crows heckling one another around a cluster of tombstones squawked loudly in response, probably thinking it was some fun new game. Craig exhaled a puff of smoke, nearly stepped toward Kenny, then thought better of it. Kenny cursed again, just as loud, as he pushed away from the mausoleum, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He paced back and forth, passing before Craig like a skinny blond storm. Smoke swirled around him, smoke and vapor from his harsh breathing, and Craig could see how much he was shaking even through his constant motion. 

He threw his half finished cigarette into the snow and reached out. Kenny instinctively pulled away with a hiss, agitation and anguish draped across his shoulders in a thick line. It stung Craig, to see him pull back like that, but he shoved those feelings down, because it wasn’t about him. He didn’t press, but he didn’t pull his hand away either, hovering outstretched and waiting for Kenny to make the next move. Kenny went back to pacing, and Craig thought he might bat his hand away, but he didn’t — he just strode past it, back and forth. Kenny growled and lifted his hand, fingers curled into a fist, and began to draw it back. 

Craig didn’t know if he was aiming for a nearby tree or the solid marble of the mausoleum, but he darted forward and grabbed Kenny’s wrist before he could break his hand on some immovable object. Kenny didn’t pull away, didn’t snarl or scream at him. Craig gently cradled Kenny’s fist and squeezed in little pulses until Kenny uncurled his fingers. He threaded their fingers together and covered the back of Kenny’s hand with his free one, and held firm. 

“Hey,” he murmured. Kenny focused his previously vague gaze on Craig; his blue eyes softened and some of the tension left his body, and Craig felt him squeeze his hand in return. “I’m here.”

Kenny drew in a gasping breath, his face crumpling a little, and he tossed his cigarette into the snow and all but flung himself into Craig. He tucked himself under Craig’s chin, a tricky maneuver given their similarities in height. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. Craig shook his head, hopefully conveying to Kenny that there was nothing to apologize for, rather than implying that he was shaking off the apology. “I—” 

“Kenny,” Craig said softly. He brought his hands up and touched the back of Kenny’s head, encouraging him to look up at him. Craig cupped his face, his fingers gently scratching into his hairline. Kenny’s blue, blue eyes, shiny with unshed tears and bloodshot from lack of sleep, broke his fucking heart. His lips were pressed together in an effort to keep them from quivering, and Craig felt his own face crumble. Tears fell from Kenny’s eyes then, and Craig brushed them away with his thumbs. “I’m _ here _.”

———

Kevin left for Denver the next day. Karen had clung to him, begged him not to go, but he couldn’t take any more time off from work. Kenny and Karen watched him drive off, holding hands in Craig’s front lawn and looking like they’d been abandoned at a train station. Several minutes passed, and Craig was contemplating approaching them when Tricia’s bedroom window opened.

“Karen!” she shouted. Craig, Kenny, and Karen turned around to see Tricia hanging out her bedroom window lazily, one arm dangling down. “I stole Craig’s VRV password.” Craig flipped his sister off. “Let’s watch Sailor Moon.” Tricia didn’t move from the window until Karen was on her way inside, and she shut the window on him as he was telling her to log off at nine so he and Kenny could keep watching Dr. Stone. Too late, the window was closed and Craig was left scowling at empty space. Kenny sidled up beside him, winding an arm around his waist and crowding against him. 

“You’re lucky you got Karen as a sister. Tricia is a fucking menace,” he grumbled. Kenny chuckled against his shoulder. 

“Nah, she’s cool. She’s good at taking care of Karen. Older brothers can only do so much,” he murmured, his words muffled by Craig’s hoodie. Craig twisted his head to the side and kissed Kenny’s hair, his lips melting the snowflakes in it. “Can we go smoke?” He didn’t say more than that, but Craig could guess that he had a multitude of reasons. He could only imagine Kenny’s overwhelming need to decompress from the grief-stricken chaos his life had been for the past week. It had been a while since they’d had time to smoke anyway, and he found himself craving time to unwind. 

He led them inside, and Kenny peeled himself from Craig’s side with a squeeze to his hand; Craig went to the kitchen to heat up some pizza rolls (in the microwave, because he was fucking lazy and eager to smoke) while Kenny went upstairs to get things ready. When Craig made his way back into his room, a plate in one hand and two cans of soda in the other, Kenny was cross-legged in his bed, packing a bowl. Craig set the food and drinks down on his nightstand and crawled onto the bed to crack the window. He was on his hands and knees and was ready to sit back and take the bowl from Kenny when he felt lips on his neck, the press of them light and flighty, and then an exhale, and from his peripherals he saw smoke curling around him. 

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply, enjoying the sensation of Kenny’s lips on his skin. A shiver crept across his skin and he rolled his shoulders into it, leaning back to chase the feeling and finding Kenny instead, tired blue eyes locking on his. Craig leaned over and covered Kenny’s mouth with his own, gentle and soft. Kenny sighed, holding the bowl away from them as he brought his free hand up to Craig’s neck. Craig kept the kiss chaste and light, just barely tasting at Kenny’s lower lip before pulling back. 

He wanted to say about a hundred things to Kenny; he’d been thinking throughout the week about what he could say to Kenny when they finally found some down time. Free time had been rare since Carol had passed. If he wasn’t talking with Kevin about Karen’s future, comforting Karen herself, or planning the funeral itself, he was unconscious in Craig’s arms, a sleepy depression that kept him lethargic and quiet. This was the first chance they’d had to simply sit and soak in one another’s presence since all of this started, and Craig was torn between trying to say _ something _ and not wanting to ruin anything. Kenny was far from fragile, even at his worst, but Craig knew that delicacy wouldn’t be misinterpreted. 

He opted to say nothing, instead pressing another chaste, tender kiss to Kenny’s lips before accepting the proffered bowl and inhaling deeply. The smoke filled his lungs, and he closed his eyes, holding it longer than he usually would before exhaling toward his ceiling. When he opened his eyes and rolled his head back down, he found Kenny staring at him, a fond smile on his face as he chewed on a pizza roll. Craig squinted playfully at him, taking another hit from the bowl and blowing it out at him. The smile on Kenny’s face widened, and it made Craig’s chest clench. 

“You’re gorgeous, babe,” he hummed, his voice husky from smoke and relative disuse. Craig froze, wanting nothing more than to tackle Kenny back onto the bed and smother him in kisses. It boggled his mind that Kenny could look at Craig, perfectly aware of what his own face looks like, and still think Craig looked good. Plain black hair as opposed to Kenny’s luminous blond, bland green eyes, a stark contrast to the starfire burning in Kenny’s skull. A sharp nose, a thin face, a gawky, lanky body. He didn’t understand it, didn’t think he ever would, honestly. But he was greedy, and selfish, and he would take it; he’d collect Kenny’s affection and attention and hoard it like a miser, keep it under lock and key. 

And then he’d return it, coated in his own love, painted with soft kisses and dusted with warm breath that carried praise and every affirmation he could muster with it. One day, he’d tell Kenny that he loved him, but he doubted the ability of three words to properly convey everything he felt for him. 

“I’m gonna keep saying it until you stop seizing up and start believing me,” Kenny murmured with a soft chuckle. Craig blinked and had to fight to keep a dopey smile off his face. 

_ I’m never going to get used to loving you_, he thought, only barely avoiding blurting it out loud. 

Craig leaned in and pressed his lips to Kenny’s once more, his gut jolting when Kenny’s tongue brushed against his lip. One of Kenny’s hands caressed the side of his face and he leaned into the touch, parting his lips and sliding his tongue against Kenny’s. They kissed for what felt like several minutes, and maybe it was; when they parted to smoke, the bowl had to be relit. 

“What do you wanna do?” he asked as Kenny added fresh green and lit it up again. Kenny inhaled the smoke and breathed out again, flopping back onto the pillows and holding the bowl straight up in the air. Craig plucked it from his grasp and took another hit.

“In an ideal world, I’d like you to finger me until I can’t breathe and not mention when I cry through orgasm, but there’s a few too many people home for that,” Kenny responded easily. Craig eased himself down beside him, propping himself up on one elbow. He agreed there, unfortunately; Karen and Tricia were in the room next door, his mother was downstairs, and his father would be getting home from work within the hour. “So maybe just finish this bowl and hold my hand for a while? I don’t know, dude.”

It seemed to Craig that the effort of deciding anything else, even something as trivial as what to do with their evening, was too much for Kenny. Understandable, given the decisions he had to make this past week. They laid beside one another, passing the bowl back and forth until it was smoked down to nothing and they were sufficiently high. Craig tapped it out into his trash can and tucked it back into his drawer, then settled down again, reaching over to grasp Kenny’s hand. Kenny immediately threaded their fingers together and squeezed hard. Craig had a feeling his knuckles were turning white as he squeezed back, but if that was what Kenny wanted, he would happily forfeit sensation in his digits. 

Then Kenny released his hold on Craig’s hand and rolled onto his side to crowd into Craig’s space. He threw his leg over Craig’s, working it between and hooking their ankles together. Kenny worked his hand between the hood of Craig’s sweatshirt and his shoulder, burying his hand into the heat there as he tucked his head beneath Craig’s chin. Craig wrapped his arms around him, cocooning him as best he could. He buried his face into Kenny’s hair, dropping kisses onto the crown of his head and breathing deep the smell of cheap soap and cigarettes. 

Craig wasn’t sure about Kenny, but he found himself dozing in and out of slumber, moments of lucidity spent curling a lock of blond hair around his finger. He woke when his mother came and asked, her voice soft and sympathetic, what they’d like for dinner. He woke when Ike stumped past on the way to Tricia’s room and he pointedly didn’t think about how comfortable the boy was with walking into his little sister’s bedroom. He woke when his father came home and clanked about in the kitchen. 

He woke when Kenny shifted in his arms, murmuring something sleepy and unintelligible into his neck. Maybe he’d have been able to understand the words if he’d been fully conscious or fully sober or both; consciousness was accompanied by a white noise in his ears, however, and his cognition was muzzy with sleep and drugs. He knew Kenny had spoken _ something _, but it couldn’t have been so important, otherwise he’d have sat up and repeated himself.

No, it was nothing, Craig reasoned. He sighed contentedly and rewrapped his arms around Kenny, crooking one leg up and winding it around Kenny’s calf. Sleep claimed him once more, the drug a lullaby, and put all thoughts of speech out of his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter clawed its way out of me. I've been having a rough time lately, but I shan't abandon this fic! Crenny needs must! 
> 
> Hopefully, the next chapter will be longer and better!


End file.
